


Heartless

by senholo



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senholo/pseuds/senholo
Summary: Your relationship with Albert Wesker was complicated, especially once Umbrella's action's come to light. Even after his death and betrayal you still mourn him, never fully over the love you lost; but old ghosts don't stay down and your past has a way of coming back to haunt you....
Relationships: Albert Wesker & Original Female Character(s), Albert Wesker & Reader, Albert Wesker/Reader
Comments: 68
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

Sometime in 1996,

You were alone in the training room, a large open space with high ceilings and bright fluorescent lights. Under you were soft mats to cushion hard falls, and off to the sides were dozens of exercise machines and weights, as well as punching bags and the doors back to the police station. It was late at night, you had finished a pretty standard STARS shift, standard for when there were no missions to complete that is; mostly paperwork, training exercises and playing pranks on Chris Redfield. You weren’t ready to go home yet though, despite staying late to work on the paperwork backlog, you were still full of energy. So, you’d changed into a STARS t-shirt and exercise shorts and decided to take on one of the training dummies for a late night workout, hoping to relieve some of your pent up energy.

  
You’re laying flat on the floor with one leg in the air. You had been going through some routine stretches, but wanted to feel some extra burn to ensure you were fully warmed up. What you were trying to do was a two person stretch, and you were struggling to do it alone; finding it difficult to keep your leg straight while also getting the extension you needed. You groaned in frustration, eyes rolling as you were getting ready to give up, arm slumping to the mat.

  
“Trying to do a two person stretch alone, cadet?” The voice comes as a surprise, and before you can react, firm hands are on the back of your exposed thigh and the top of your shin, pressing down and applying the pressure you weren’t able to get on your own. You struggle briefly as you realize what is happening, eyes flying open to see Captain Wesker kneeling beside you, his grip firm enough to hold you down in the stretch even as you tried to wrestle yourself from his grasp.

“What can I say? I’m ambitious.” You sigh, enjoying the renewed pressure he was applying.

  
“Is that so?” The captain flashes you a wolfish grin, tightening his grip on your thigh slightly, pushing your leg gradually forward.

Before you can hiss at him to ease up he stops, holding your leg firmly in place. You let out a sigh of relief, finally stretched the way you were looking for. Your eyes flutter open only to meet his extreme gaze as you realize he’s been intensely watching you this whole time. Heat floods to your cheeks as you become acutely aware of his hand on your bare upper thigh.

  
“Y-you’re here late captain.” You try to break the silence, not realizing how intense the moment has become. He blinks at you, as if broken from a trance before gently bending your leg at the knee, setting it down and starting on stretching your other one.

  
“Yes,” He palms the back of your other thigh, “Though I could say the same for you.”

  
A soft hiss escapes your mouth as he applies the same pressure to your other leg, still watching your face intently.  
“Got tired of doing paperwork….” You trail off as he continues to extend your leg, “Thought I’d come down here and hit something.”

  
He lets out a low chuckle, “I see…”  
“Since you’re here, do you want to spar?” He releases your leg, offering his hand to help you off the floor. You take it and he pulls you up, nearly causing you to lose your balance.

  
He fixes you with another wolfy half smile, “You must be eager to lose, cadet.”

...

Sparring with the captain became a weekly occurrence. Then weekly turned into almost nightly. It seemed you both had the extra energy and enjoyed the company, sparring helped you both blow off some steam. He had been right, you’d lost the first night, and still lost most nights, but you held your own. You were the ALPHA team medic anyways, not exactly a hand to hand combat expert. The sessions with Wesker definitely seemed to help though.

  
“You still haven’t answered me.” His voice was cool despite the situation. You don’t know how he managed to stay so composed while fighting, you felt like you were coming unravelled at the seams: brows furrowed in concentration, sweat pouring down your face and arms as you fought off his onslaught. As always he hadn’t even broken a sweat, his STARS t-shirt still crisply tucked into his combat pants, an outfit you’d insisted on after you’d noticed he’d always arrive to sparr wearing his business casual shift attire.

You ignored his question again, you barely had time to think in this fight, he was trying to distract you. You grit your teeth, throwing a punch towards his left side. He blocks swiftly, countering with his own, barely giving you time to react. Your arm comes up in time to block the blow, but you still take the full force of the hit, grunting in pain.

  
“At a loss for words, cadet?” He flashes his teeth in a half smile as he winds up a series of furious kicks. It’s all you can do to block them, forced backwards with each blow, doing your best to withstand the force and stay on your feet.

  
“I’m a little BUSY at the moment!” You yell out, dodging a well placed roundhouse; his leg narrowly missing your shoulder. You realize too late that it’s a mistake, to evade his strike you’d thrown yourself off balance; all as he’d planned. Your eyes grow wide as you realize your mistake, briefly catching his smug look before the next kick sends you flying flat to the floor, landing with a satisfying “oof,” as the wind is knocked out of you.

  
The fluorescent lighting of the gym ceiling has become an all too familiar sight, since Captain Wesker knocks you back on your ass so often. His shadow falls over your face, blocking the harsh light as he stands over you, not yet offering his hand to help you up.  
“Now, are you really going to make me repeat myself, cadet?” To most people he would have sounded annoyed, but you knew him well enough to know better. The slight curl of his lip, placing emphasis on ‘repeating’ himself, calling you ‘cadet,’ he was teasing you and you knew it.

  
You stare up at him blankly, “You were serious about that?” You hadn’t even considered his question. He regards you carefully, studying your face before letting out a low chuckle.  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks.

  
“I…” You trail off, slightly embarrassed at your blunder, heat flooding to your cheeks, “I thought you were trying to distract me….” You avert your gaze, face hot, unable to withstand his intense staring any longer. He is silent for a moment before more soft laughs escape him. Your eyes snap back to him, having never heard him laugh for more than a moment. They’re quiet, but deep; like thunder rolling distantly over mountains. It’s a lovely sound, you feel your gaze soften as you look at him and your heart flutters for a moment before you remember he’s laughing at you.  
His deep laughter stops as soon as it had started and he extends his hand to help you up, you hesitantly take it, “I don’t need to resort to petty tricks to beat you in a sparring match.” He’s back to his usual composure, watching you carefully, “Dinner then?” He continues once you’re back on your feet, his hand lingering in yours as you’re pulled a little closer than you were meant to be.  
“I’d like that, yeah.”

…

His gaze is unrelenting even in the dim lighting of the restaurant; a much fancier place than you’d been expecting to go for a first date. While you were a doctor and made a decent wage, most of your career before STARS had been focused on overseas charity work in underprivileged and war ravaged areas, so the lux and expensive restaurant is a stark change of pace for you.  
“You look absolutely breathtaking, dear heart.” Your heart thumps in your chest, you’d worn something off the shoulder and backless, but a modest length; one of your favorite dresses. You two had just been seated and had barely had a moment to speak since you’d decided to meet at the restaurant.

  
“Thank you ca-,” You falter, realizing how ridiculous and formal it would be to call him captain on a date; did you even know his first name? “Al, thank you Al.” You quickly saved, eliciting one of his signature half smiles from him, clearly amused by you.  
“It’s nice to see you out of the office, you always dress nicely but I see now that you’re dressed down at work.” STARS office attire was business casual, unless you were running drills or training exercises; so most members were usually clad in slacks and button downs, sometimes polos, things like that. Captain Wesker was no different, though his style always had an elevated quality to it compared to the rest of them. His suit was tailored to perfection, a tan color that suited him surprisingly well, with a dark turtleneck underneath, golden cufflinks matching an expensive-looking golden watch. Most surprising was the pair of gilded half moon glasses he wore, in the office he wore sunglasses most of the time so you didn’t know he wore regular glasses.

  
“I enjoy…. The finer things in life, nice clothing is just one aspect of such things. But, the feeling is completely mutual.” You smile at him, the table between you is small and you are half tempted to reach out and take his hand; to rub circles on his skin and ask him to tell you about his nice watch but you stop yourself. You were hesitant to show affection, he was still your captain afterall, your BOSS; you couldn’t deny the way he was beginning to make you feel though.

  
“Would you like some wine? I take you as a sweet red kind of person.” His question shakes you out of your indecisive fog.  
You nod and smile sweetly, “How did you know?” He calls the waiter over and orders you two a bottle of something sweet and expensive.

  
“Lucky guess.” You can’t deny the way your heart flutters at his voice this time and you decide to be bold and take his hand. A quick look of shock crosses his face but is quickly replaced by a smug one, pleased by your boldness.  
Your fingers are soft on his skin, you expect his skin to be cold but it isn’t; he’s pleasantly warm and you find yourself growing greedy to explore more of him. Restraining yourself for now you find contentedness in tracing small shapes onto the top of his hand.

  
“Want to tell me about your watch?” You muse, not looking up from his hand, turning it over to look at his palm, transfixed.  
Low laughter escapes him as he watches you, amused, “I could bore you to death talking about my watch if you’d like, but I was hoping to learn more about you.” This piques your curiosity, glancing up from his hand for a moment to catch his eyes before going back to following his palm lines with your fingers.

  
“Oh?” You don’t offer any further questions, wanting to force him to play his cards and ask his own questions.

  
“Yes, you have quite an extensive resume and file, it seems you’re quite over qualified for STARS.” Your breath catches and your fingers flutter for a moment, focus on his palm broken; you leave your hand in his and carefully meet his gaze.

  
“You think so?” You try to be coy, as if you’re modest about your own qualifications.  
His half smile is almost predatory, as if you’re a lamb he’s been stalking, “Graduated at the top of your class, extensively worked on the Human Genome Project, several experimental vaccines and treatments under your name, and you also worked with the US military and charity groups in Africa. That’s quite a list.” You stiffen under his intense stare, hoping he didn’t notice.  
You try to pass the moment off, laughing nonchalantly, “I suppose you’ve been through my file then.” Your index finger idly passes over his palm, doing your best to play it cool. You don’t like talking about your past; you left Africa and the US Government behind for a reason.

  
“So what is someone with your resume doing in Racoon City? With your credentials you could have a job anywhere you wanted: government, military, medical. I’m surprised a company like Umbrella hasn’t tried recruiting you.” He pressed forward; his tone was casual but serious, almost like there was something else at play.

  
“Who says they haven’t?” You let the words hang in the air. It was true, the pharmaceutical company had heard of your accomplishments with the HGP and your research into vaccines and had tried to recruit you. It’d pained you turning them away, a prestigious company with deep pockets, but you couldn’t risk it after Africa, “You know Al, if I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a job interview.” You say cooly.

  
He looks shocked but only for a moment, regaining composure so quickly you’re not sure if he ever lost it, “No not at all, I’m curious to know why such a bright young doctor would choose to work below her qualifications is all.” He squeezes your hand gently, you had forgotten you were even holding it at all; it’s a comforting gesture, “You’re a part of my squad, I’d like to know why.” His words are soft and genuine, almost apologetic, as if he hadn’t meant to come across so severe in his questioning. You felt a little bad, you were very defensive about your past, always worried that your ghosts would come back to haunt you; it was natural for him to be curious.

  
“Let’s just say that the US Government and I didn’t quite see eye to eye on some things; that’s why I left the military, I was better suited to charity work. I became a doctor because I want to help people, that’s why being a part of STARS is nice. I can still do my part as a medic, and on my off days I have time to work on personal research and projects.” You flash him a flirty smile, “Experimental vaccines and treatments don’t just make or finish themselves you know.”

  
He laughs, the low rumbling sound you’ve started to love, “No, I suppose they don’t. You should tell me about your work sometimes.”  
It’s your turn to chuckle softly, you had no doubts that Captain Wesker was an intelligent man, but you’d bored enough people to death talking about viral genealogy that you knew better.

  
“Maybe when you tell me about your watch I’ll tell you about viral phylodynamics.”


	2. Chapter 2

One dinner date turned into two, two turned into bringing him coffee into work into the mornings, flowers delivered at your doorstep, long weekends at his place, and before long you two had become more than comfortable with each other. Only a few months had passed since your first date and things were going well. You still continued your sparring sessions multiple times a week; despite the time being for fighting, it was an intimate experience you treasured and craved each week. 

Unsurprisingly the stoic and well respected captain was restrained when it came to physical intimacy, at least, he had been with you so far. You’d spent nights in each other’s beds, had some intense kissing, but so far hadn’t even come close to heavy petting. It was almost as if he was holding himself back. You were starting to get worried that he didn’t find you attractive in that way, Wesker was a man who knew what he wanted, who enjoyed “the finer things in life,” surely that included sex, right? 

You hit the mat with a groan, the third time you’d been bested tonight. Albert stood above you, only looking slightly smug; he begins to extend his hand but you’re already back on your feet. 

“Something on your mind, little bird?” The corner of his mouth twitches. Normally you like his unique pet names, they make you feel special, but right now it annoys you. 

“Just tired of getting my ass kicked.” It’s a half truth, while you were frustrated at the night’s losing streak, it wasn’t the source of your anger. You’d been over-thinking, you were under-stimulated and frankly sick of not getting the kind of attention you wanted from Wesker. Being deep in your own irritable thoughts had thrown off your performance in your sparring, only frustrating you further. 

Wesker wisely lets your statement hang in the air, squaring into a fighting stance when you oppose him. Standing lightly on the balls of your feet, you rush at him, ducking and throwing your shoulder towards his chest. It’s an aggressive move you wouldn’t normally try, usually opting for a more passive and reactive fighting style. With one of his hands he manages to palm your shoulder, strong enough to catch your weight with it and hold you off, clearly surprised. You push and apply more pressure, trying to knock him over; it’s a nonsensical decision, you know you can’t push him over this way but you’re angry and just want to be unreasonable. 

He takes advantage of your closeness and uses his leg to push on the back of your leg, knocking you off balance, using the force of your own attack against you as you struggle to stay up. This only makes you angrier, you know he wants to say something smug, you can practically hear the words behind his teeth. ‘You’ll never win like that, little bird.’ His voice echoes in your head. You practically see red and he didn’t have to say anything. 

You use your own mistake in your favor, using the momentum to pivot off your foot and spin back into him, throwing a punch. He dodges but narrowly, surprise on his face once again. You don’t let up, bombarding him with blows, forcing him to be on the defensive; using his arms to block. You gain some ground, pushing forward, getting in his space. A drop of sweat forms on his brow and you feel a pang of satisfaction. You throw a high kick in between punches, forcing him to dodge low. You know he’s looking for an opening but you don’t expect him to grab you by the waist while avoiding your kick.

He lifts you above his head and you know he’s about to throw you, you do all you can think of and elbow him in the back, hard. He drops you out of shock, unable to finish the throw. As you plummet towards the ground you take one last shot, sweeping his legs out from under him right before you hit the ground. You hit the mat hard for the fourth time tonight, flat on your back; it is only a second before Wesker falls directly on top of you, knocking what was left of the wind out of you. 

You’re both breathing hard, his face hangs over yours, his hand pressed into the mat near your head. You shift under him, bending one of your legs at the knee you force him to shift; his hips bore into your thigh, just to the side of your crotch, and that's when you notice. He’s hard. You almost scream in excitement, he does think of you in that way. You move your hips beneath him ever so slightly, barely rubbing against him and he stiffens, twitching against you. 

“Sorry about that.” He says breathlessly, embarrassed, he uses his hand to push up, putting space between you. That is the last thing you want, the fear of losing this opportunity overtakes you and you reach out on instinct; rubbing him in between two fingers. He hisses, eyes closing as he turns his head to the side, his cock stiffening under your touch. You’re transfixed, using your index and middle finger to tease the length of him; his pants were straining, he was huge, how had you never noticed this before during your sparring sessions? 

He returns his gaze back to you, embarrassment gone, predatory hunger in its place, “I-Is that what you want?” His stare is so intense, more so now than ever, “Is this why you’ve been so cruel tonight?” You bite your lip, nodding.

He grabs your chin, tilting your face up to look towards him, eliciting a small gasp from you, “Say it. I want to hear you say you need me.” 

You practically moan, you didn’t know that he was like this, “Yes, m-more than anything I’ve needed this.” You squeeze him a little tighter between your fingers and he groans, releasing your face. 

“My office, now.” He growls. 

You practically skip behind him on the way to the STARS office, all of your previous frustration and anger gone; You want to hold his hand and a devilish part of you wants to pinch one of his cheeks, but you restrain yourself. Wesker’s private office within the STARS office might not have cameras, but the rest of the police station did, plus the late night shift was still on duty, even though STARS wasn’t.

Everyone besides the two of you had gone home for the night when you’d left for the gym, so you’re not surprised that the office is empty. You’re nearly jumping up and down with excitement as Wesker unlocks his office, inviting you in. You want to jump on him, but you wait agonizingly as he closes the blinds. Sudden shock sets in that this is really happening as he turns towards you and you open your mouth to stammer out a silly joke. Before you can his mouth is on you, body pushing you against the wall, hands exploring your sides. 

“Not getting cold feet are you, little bird?” He kisses the question down your neck, causing your head to roll back as he nipped at your exposed skin, eliciting a small moan from you. “No, definitely not.” You respond.

“Good.” He growls, intensifying his attack on you, one of his hands palms your ass, greedily grabbing and squeezing hard; the other snakes under your gym shirt, finding your breast, he starts toying with your nipple. You yelp, but he silences you with a hard kiss, “The night shift, darling, stay quiet.” His voice is heady in your ear and it’s all you can do not to fall to pieces in his arms. 

You start to fight back, untucking his shirt so you can touch his skin, slipping two fingers into his waistband to pull him close, you wrap one of your legs around him so he can grind into your heat; which he does hungrily. The two of you kiss like this for a few more minutes, enjoying your first true intimate encounter together, until you can wait no longer. You paw at the front of his pants, rubbing his cock through them and fumbling for his belt. 

He untangles himself from you and you whine; he tuts at you, “Greedy thing.” He leads you to his desk, relaxing into his chair with a content sigh, “This wasn’t how I’d planned our first time you know.” He mused. You cocked your head to the side in silent question, curious.

“I’ve been denying myself for some time now. An intelligent, beautiful woman like you deserves roses, wine, dinner, a romantic experience; and that’s what I had planned at least.” He rested his head on his fist, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair, a few pieces of his blonde hair loose from their impeccable style, falling onto his face. You knew what he wanted, and you wanted it to, but you waited; for some reason you felt like he wasn't ready yet. 

“But… I can see now that you don’t want that…” He paused, “You want to be treated like a whore, so I’ll deny myself no longer.” 

He looks at you finally, eyes ablaze with a dark hunger, “On your knees cadet.” You comply happily, looking up at him from between his legs as he unbuckled his belt, ready for your prize. His cock practically jumps free of his waistband and you admire it for a moment; it’s at least seven inches, a lovely tan color, perfectly straight, nice and thick. Your mouth is practically watering and you see Wesker smirk at you out of the corner of your eye. 

You grab him by the base, hesitating for only a second as you place a kiss on his swollen tip, hearing him inhale sharply at your touch. You take the top in your mouth, focusing your tongue on the heart-shaped groove connecting his tip to shaft, working your way down his cock. Gradually you start moving further down, pushing yourself to take more of him as you bob up and down, slowly increasing your speed. 

Your eyes flicker upwards and you catch him admiring your work. He looks like a king on his throne, lounging in his chair as you suck his cock. His head rests on his hand, his other hand cups your head, not guiding, just reminding you who's in charge while you took care of him. His tip hits the back of your throat and you force yourself to keep it there for a moment, gagging; you bob back and forth at that spot a few more times before pulling back, spit connecting your lips to him. You breath for a moment before hungrily diving back in, intoxicated by his scent and taste. This time when you take him to the base he grabs your hair, pulling it sharply and holding you there, making you take him. Your lids flutter, looking up to him for approval and he groans in pleasure. 

He stands, hand gripping your hair tightly, his cock bounces temptingly in front of your face and you open your mouth for him, waiting eagerly for him to give it back to you.

“Playtime’s over.” He says and you understand what he wants; he thrusts into your mouth roughly and you relax your jaw accordingly, allowing him to fuck your face as he pleased. Using your hair like a handle he thrusts and pulls you to him, using you like a tool. Spit drips down your chin and your eyes roll back; he is relentless, his pace regular, stopping only to give you small breaks, or to choke you on his cock. 

His speed picks up and you can tell he’s close, his breathing ragged and his thrusts greedy. He pulls out suddenly, grabbing your jaw roughly, and forcing your mouth open he finishes himself with his hand; shooting his cum onto your awaiting tongue, cumming with a low moan. He strokes himself tightly from base to tip, forcing a final drop into your greedy mouth with a soft groan. 

“Swallow,” He lets go of your jaw and you swallow. He smirks at you, pleased, “Now show me.” You look at him confused for a moment before you understand, opening your mouth again to show you’d swallowed, “Good girl.” 

His words make you want to melt, and before he can get too far away you take him in your mouth one last time, sucking hard on his tip. He exhales sharply, surprised, and he grabs the desk for support. You make sure there’s no cum left on him, flicking your tongue through his hole to free a hidden drop; which you lap up eagerly. When you pull back he almost looks dangerous, you flash him a flirty smile, “Clean.” 

“Come here.” He growls, voice full of need. You stood and embraced him, he kissed you hungrily; tasting his cum on your lips. The kiss is over quickly as he pushes you down, bending you over his desk, you gasp as he pulls your exercise shorts and panties down, his erection pressed against your ass. 

“Al...:” You say breathlessly as he spits on his fingers, using one hand to spread you before him. You quiver at his touch.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, giving you no time to react he slips his index finger into you effortlessly; the spit was a formality, you’d been wet since you were sparring earlier. You moan quietly as he begins to finger you, you’re wet enough to take two fingers easily and before long three of his slender fingers are knuckle deep in you. It takes all your self control to keep quiet, only softly moaning for him.

He pulls away suddenly and the absence of his fingers is devastating; you aren’t upset for long as you feel him line himself up to your entrance. He pushes gently and you whine, the pressure as his cock begins to slide in is maddening. With a sharp snap of his hips he pushes fully into you, your wetness enveloping him fully as he pushes against your cervix in one thrust. You cry out in shock, pleasure and pain as he begins to thrust into you without mercy. 

“God your cunt was made for me.” He seethes, gripping your ass as he starts to pound you relentlessly. You’re coming apart underneath him, whimpering and moaning, you go to adjust yourself and knock over a cup of pens. He tuts at you, grabbing your arms and pinning them behind your back. 

“Looks like we’ll have to keep you still little lamb.” He pulled out to the tip, slamming into you, causing you to yelp, “Careful now pet, wouldn’t want the night shift to hear.” 

He continued his ruthless thrusting, picking up the pace, “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear the prestigious STARS alpha team medic being fucked by her captain would we, pet? Want anyone to come see you being used like a slut, hmm?” The stimulation is too much and you can feel your orgasm building, your slick dripping down your legs as he slammed into you. 

“N-nono sir, no c-captain.” You can barely get the words out through your moans. 

“Fuck...” He moans, releasing your arms he pulls you up to his chest, still thrusting. His hand finds your neck and he squeezes, gently at first, then when you don’t pull away or say no, tighter, “Cum for me.” He growls into your ear; he is not asking, it is a demand and you will fulfil it.

It’s too much for you, the choking and his voice send you over the edge, your walls contracting around him as you cum, “Wes- Wes-” You cry out his surname as your orgasm crashes over you, your eyes rolling back as he pounds you through it, overstimulating you. His breathing becomes ragged as he draws nearer to his own orgasm, he releases your neck and you collapse back to the desk, breathing hard. He pulls out and the absence of his cock makes you almost mournful, as if a piece of you is missing. He finishes himself with his hand, splattering his cum on your ass, moaning as he does. 

You hear rustling behind you as he finds a napkin to wipe you off, which he does, gently pulling your shorts and panties back up when he's done. You slowly turn yourself over, sitting on the desk, facing him. He’d tucked his member away already, belt redone and shirt tucked back in, as if nothing had happened. The only evidence of your encounter was the amount of hair pried free of its gelled style and the slight sheen of sweat on his brow. You extend your arms out, wanting to hold him, he hits you with one of his half smiles but steps forward to accept your touch. You wrap your arms around him, burying your head in his neck, placing small kisses along the skin there, until you’re near his ear.

“I can have both you know.” He stiffens under you, processing, “I can be your personal slut AND be treated romanticly.” You muse, nipping his earlobe. He chuckles, one of your favorite sounds, the rumbling of his chest feels especially nice against yours. 

“I suppose you can.” He scoops you up in his arms, making you yelp in surprise as you’re lifted off the desk and into the air, “And you, dear heart, should not be throwing punches when sexually frustrated.” You huff at him, choosing to ignore his statement

“Want to come over? I bet you’re hungry.” Your voice is almost singsongy.

He ponders your question for a moment, “I could eat,” He smiles at you, the first time you’d ever seen him fully smile, “Someone’s going to have to carry you into work tomorrow after all.” 

You snort, “You should have seen the things we went through in Africa, I’ll be fine.” He squeezes your leg with one hand.

“Your mouth is making checks your legs won't be able to cash, my dear.” He teases. 

“Well we’ll see about that won’t we.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hee hee


	3. Chapter 3

July 1998,

It’s a quiet day at home for you. The STARS teams had recently switched to twenty-four hour shifts, Bravo team was on now, meaning you had the day to yourself. You stand in the screened in patio where you keep your garden. Working in the city meant you couldn’t have a proper yard, but you’d chosen an apartment with ample patio space. You had to.

You gently plucked some ripe tomatoes from one of your most vigorously producing tomato plants, smiling happily to yourself. Your garden had the standards, tomatoes, herbs, a few veggies and some fruits, plus a few special plants you used in your research. Including a peculiar orange flower you’d found in Africa, the “Stairway to the Sun,” and your pride and joy; the African Uponyaji trees you’d grown from seed yourself. You had a few of them, kept in large pots, and they all fruited and flowered wonderfully for you. Your life’s work depended on those trees and your heart swells with pride every time you see them.

The sliding door onto the patio opens behind you and your blood runs cold, fear and adrenaline coursing through you; not knowing who it was, you weren’t expecting anyone. In a quick movement you grab the emergency gun you had taped under one of the shelves, whirling around you unlatched the safety and had it cocked and pointed at the intruder. 

“Whoa.” It’s Al’s voice and you sob in relief, nearly dropping the gun as you flick the safety back on and slam it on the shelf. He stands with his hands in the air, his keys in one hand and a plastic bag in the other, “I brought you lunch.” He offers the statement questioningly, completely unsure of what to do in the situation. 

“Oh my god Al…” You can’t stop the soft tears that begin to fall, “I’m so sorry.” You’re practically hysterical; he opens his arms for you and you dash into them, holding him tightly, overwhelmed with horrific thoughts.

You kept the gun outside as a safety precaution, your research was dependent on the uponyaji trees and the fruit they bore and you knew there were people who would seek to destroy it. In that moment you’d forgotten that you’d given your partner the key to your apartment, protecting your research was the only thing on your mind when you’d pointed the gun at him. Thank god you’d made sure to look before considering firing. God, what if you’d shot him? What if you’d killed him? You vowed to take the gun off the patio, you could defend your work with your hands if it ever came to that. 

He pulls you inside, setting his keys and the food on the dining table, pulling you closer to his arms. He holds you for a few minutes, until your tears begin to dry up and you start to pull away from him. He doesn’t ask questions, just starts getting the food out from its bag; soup and sandwiches from a local bistro you two like to go to, a lovely treat. One you’d sullied. 

You slump into the chair across from him but you barely touch the food he’s brought you, using your spoon to push the soup around in it’s bowl. He eats quietly, observing you carefully; you know he is, you can feel his watchful eyes tracking your movements. His questions will follow soon, you’re sure of it. 

“Do you want to talk about why you keep a gun in the garden?” He wipes his hands on a napkin, done with his food, and you sigh. You stand, lunch untouched, take his hand and lead him back out to the garden. You stand in front of your trees, your precious uponyaji trees, and pluck a ripe fruit from the largest one. It’s a firm brown fruit, with a dappled, leathery outer skin. You turn to face him, carefully peeling the skin back to reveal the translucent inner flesh. 

You move slowly, reaching into his pants pocket where you know he carries a pocket knife. He flinches slightly but relaxes when he sees your eyes, practically begging him to trust you. You pull the knife out, flipping it open you cut him a slice of the clear fruit, offering it to him. He takes it hesitantly, eating it like he’s not done deciding if it’s poison or not. You cut yourself a slice too to reassure him, enjoying the sweet, refreshing flavor. 

“You almost shot me over a fruit?” He teases lightly, smile hovering on his lips. 

“A fruit that has more anti-viral properties than fifteen flu shots,” The humor leaves his face as he sees how serious you are, “Not to mention it’s antibacterial, disease resistant and is completely resistant to mutation; having no other related varieties. It’s the only plant of it’s genus.” 

Wesker is silent, he’s familiar with your work in vaccines, and unbeknownst to you, very experienced with viruses. “It’s a very special fruit then.” He muses.

“It’s not just special, it’s _life-changing._ ” You pull him back inside, closing the sliding door behind you. You take a deep breath, nearly shaking. You kept your time in Africa closely guarded, your research was precious to you, but your time there had been traumatizing. You tried not to think about it.

You exhale, “When I was in Africa, I was a part of a special team put together by the US military; meant to act as early pandemic response when outbreaks began. At least, that’s what I thought.” You pause, the memories flooding over you, visibly shaking now. Albert puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you nearly wince; not that his touch isn’t comforting, you’re just overwhelmed, panicked and flighty. Reliving these memories was reopening a long closed wound, the horror and pain fresh and real all over again. 

“We’d been stationed in Eastern Africa to help the local populations recover from civil unrest as well as provide relief for Malaria and HIV/AIDS. We’d been hearing rumors of a possible new virus, though it wasn’t confirmed. The locals called it, the “cannibal” virus. Allegedly it caused necrosis of the skin, hallucinations, violent outbursts, until the host was barely a person; attacking anything that moved, trying to eat it alive. 

I was given the task of looking into one of the nearby villages, where the people were known to live a long time and almost never get sick. I was so naive then, I thought the government wanted to find ways to make our lives better. I was sent into the village with a small team of medics and my squad captain to learn about the local life and see if I could identify a source of their supposed immunity.” 

Wesker was listening intently, rubbing your shoulder slowly. He puts his hand in yours and guides you to sit on the couch, you’re shaking almost uncontrollably, clutching the uponyaji fruit in one hand, trauma fresh in your mind. He sits next to you, holding onto your other hand to help keep you grounded.

You continue on, “The people there were incredibly kind... They showed us their town... fed us… Meanwhile we would treat anyone with a medical issue, which was hardly anyone. The uponyaji trees were everywhere, our guide told me they were special, she even showed me how they grew them; I was a gardener, even back then. I was so excited, it was clear to me that the uponyaji fruit was the key, something about it was special medically. 

My excitement was short lived though. A man wandered into town the day I realized how special the fruit was; an infected man. One of my medics made the mistake of trying to see if he was okay... to offer him help.” More tears begin to roll down your cheeks as you remember her face, her laugh, she’d been your friend, “He ripped a chunk out of her arm with his teeth. I can still hear her scream in my ears, the way it rang through the town… I got him off her but we didn’t know it was too late, our captain put a bullet between his eyes. He’d bitten three other people before her, and soon our tent was overrun with patients. Nothing helped the infection or brought down the fever, and then, they became aggressive, like zombies.

We were down a medic, the rest of the squad had to be called in. Twenty-three civilians and one of our own had to be put down. The whole town went on quarantine for weeks… W-we burnt the bodies, we didn’t know if they were going to get up again… Nothing seemed to stop them.”

“You don’t have to go on.” He whispered to you, like he was speaking to a wounded animal. You shook your head, you had to finish.

“It seemed like the nightmare was over, no one else was showing symptoms, all of the dead were staying dead. We were gearing up to leave, I’d been gathering uponyaji seeds since we’d been there, shell shocked but holding onto hope that they held something helpful. I’d been about to deliver my verbal report to my captain, confirming whether I’d found anything in the town. 

That’s when I heard him speaking to someone, telling them how, the experiment had been a _resounding_ success, and how despite the locals _supposed_ strengthened immune systems, ‘T’ did its job _flawlessly._ He was raving about how he’d show the combat data to his higher ups and they’d be _sure_ to buy some for the military.” You put your face in your hands and sobbed.

“I’d never been so horrified, Al… They didn’t want to find a way to help more people, they wanted to destroy _anything_ that could possibly ruin their _weapon_. They used those people as test subjects, twenty four needless deaths, and god knows how many more tests they’d run, how they’d _developed_ it…”

“What did you do?” He asked and you laughed, it is a short and angry sound.

“I batted my eyelashes and shed a tear while I told him I didn’t find anything during our time in town, talked about how scared I was, how I thought we were there to help people; and... he told me not to worry about it.” You half smile to yourself, “I knew that I couldn’t tell him or anyone else about the uponyaji fruits potential, so I took them with me. 

I left the military a few months after that, honorably discharged, but I stayed in Africa for a little longer. I was so _angry_. I knew the government was working with an outside company, since they were looking to purchase the virus, plus if they’d been developing it themselves I’d likely have been recruited for the development team. I wanted to find them, to know who they were.”

“And did you?” He asks. If you’d been in a more stable state you may have noticed how tight his jaw was clenched or how tense his breathing was, but you didn’t. 

You shake your head, “No, I never found them… But, I found something else. I had a hunch after realizing the potential the uponyaji trees had, that maybe other plants in the region could have similar potential. I did humanitarian work in the area until eventually I found a lead.”

Wesker raises an eyebrow at you questioningly, you shakily stand, going to the sliding door to the patio. 

You point to the orange flowers on the right side of the garden, “The flowers they derived the virus from.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The uponyaji trees and fruit are made up for our story, uponyaji is the Swahili word for 'healing' so I thought it was fitting! Gardening and food baring plants are a passion of mine so I wanted to find a way to include it in the story. It's my self insert and I get to make the rules! Excited to continue sharing the story with everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

July 1998, the following day,

Wesker had stayed with you most of the day, discussing your research and helping you calm down; until a phone call had pulled him away. He’d always told you he did freelance work on the side of STARS to supplement his income, and it wasn’t the first time this work had pulled him away from you. After he was sure you were well enough to be on your own he left. 

Retelling the events of your tour in Africa hadn’t been easy for you, and you felt the effects well into the night and next day. Your sleep had been restless, mind wandering to Africa in your nightmares; to the faces of the victims you’d never forget. It was a relief when your alarm went off, at least being at work would be a nice distraction. 

You’d never been so wrong. 

The STARS office is quiet. It is never quiet anymore, not since the twenty-four hour shifts were established; there was always someone there, usually a whole team. You’re the first from Alpha team to arrive, surprised to find the office completely empty and dark. Jill follows close behind you, coffee in hand; she offers a cup to you, which you take gratefully.

“Where the hell is everybody?” 

You shake your head, “No idea, I just walked in.” You hadn’t had a chance to check the computers for any information yet.

Jill walks to her shared desk, logging in with her pass code, “Let’s see what we can find out…” 

You and Jill investigate the computers as the rest of the members of Alpha team filter in; Chris, Brad and Joseph are predictably late, but usually punctual captain Wesker is as well, entering the office a good five minutes after the others.

You notice how tired he looks, his shoulders tense; he must be exhausted from working his other job last night. Your heart goes out to him, wishing you could rub the knots from his neck and kiss his stress away. You could show him no such comfort here though, while STARS didn’t have a fraternization policy you two figured it was for the best to keep your relationship to yourselves. 

Once Captain Wesker walks in you all gather around him. On a usual day you’d be mingling with the Bravo team, discussing what happened on their shift, swapping important details, things like that, but with Bravo team missing you were all unsure of what to do. If anyone would have a plan it would be Captain Wesker. 

“Twelve hours ago, Bravo team was dispatched to investigate a string of murders in the Arklay mountains.” He stands by the dry erase board, gesturing to a map, where several locations are already circled in red pen, “The body of a young woman was discovered here, dismembered.” He moves his hand along the different locations, “Family of three, all murdered, all dismembered. A young man found with bite marks, dismembered.” 

You all listen solemnly, this was a serious mission and many people had already died.

“As you can see, Bravo team has not returned from their dispatch. We’ve received no further communications from them. Familiarize yourself with the case files, we leave in two hours to search and rescue them. Dismissed.” 

Everyone begins to shuffle to their desks, the air in the room tense. You stand rooted to the spot, gripping your coffee cup a little too hard; Africa fresh in your mind and Albert’s word’s echoing in your ears, ‘dismembered, bite marks, murdered.’ It’s all too familiar. 

It’s Jill that rouses you from your fog, gently putting her hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, you alright?” She asks. You and Jill were close, along with Rebecca you were the only women in STARS; so you’d formed a tight bond, almost like sisters. 

You stare at her blankly for a moment, “Y-yeah, rough night that’s all… Little worried about Rebecca too.” It wasn’t a complete lie, you hadn’t slept well and you WERE worried about Rebecca. She was a brilliant medic, but unlike you didn’t have much combat experience. 

“I’m sure they’re fine.” She’s trying to reassure you but she doesn’t sound sure herself, you appreciate the gesture nevertheless. 

Two hours later you and the other members of Alpha team are gearing up to leave. You’d already spent the last half hour going through your medical supplies, making sure you’d have everything you could possibly need. You don your gear, bulletproof vest, STARS issue t-shirt on top, tactical vest and gun holsters. While STARS didn’t have an official uniform yet, you and Rebecca had taken it upon yourselves to brand your gear with red crosses, the universal sign for medic, so you were clearly marked. Your hair was neatly tucked back, boots laced and you had your medical supplies and extra ammo ready to go.

You were doing a decent job of keeping yourself together, but you were on edge. You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread you had about this mission, not with Africa so fresh in your mind. Wesker must have noticed, before long it’s just you two left in the locker room, the rest of Alpha team headed to the heliport for takeoff.

“You don’t have to come, you know.” His voice is a shock to you, you hadn’t noticed his proximity or that you two were alone; his words are a further shock.

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?” You did your best to seem fine, but he knew better.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, dove? You’re upset.” He had his sunglasses on, but you knew his eyes were fixed on you, gauging your reactions, studying your movements. 

You sigh, shaking your head slightly, “I just… have a bad feeling about this mission, that’s all.”  
“Stay here then, you can support us on coms.” You raise an eyebrow at him, you were shaky but your performance would be fine on the mission.

“If you’re worried about my performance captain it won't be an issue,” You’re slightly annoyed, he didn’t normally coddle you like this, he knew how capable you were, “Rebecca is like a little sister to me, I have to make sure she’s okay, and besides, from the sound of things you’re definitely going to need a doctor.” 

He stares at you for a moment before exhaling, shaking his head, “You’re right, I’m just worried about you after yesterday is all.” He offers you a small smile, which you return. You appreciate his concern, it makes your heart swell a little.

“It’s okay Al,” You give him a quick hug, kissing him on the cheek, “You don’t have to baby me.” 

He holds your chin with his hand, “I know, but I can take care of you.” He says quietly. You let him hold your head for a moment, leaning into his touch, enjoying the comfort of it, before you two leave for the helipad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> ilu wesker.....


	5. Chapter 5

The helicopter ride is somber at best, gone is the near jovial energy that usually filled the cargo bay you were buckled into. Normally Chris and Joe would be cracking jokes and getting on Jill’s nerves, while Captain Wesker would watch with a half smile and sense of false annoyance. You’d all been on plenty of missions together in your two years as a team, this time was different though, it was personal. Bravo team was like family to all of you, the deep personal connection and violent nature of the crimes made this mission all the more serious for each of you.

It only gets worse as you pass over into the mountains, the sun starting to set and night beginning to take over. Your stomach ties itself into knots as Joseph points out smoke on the horizon; the remains of Bravo team’s helicopter. Brad looks for a place to land and you hear Jill reassuring Chris quietly.

There are no bodies in the chopper but there is a fair amount of blood, it does little to make you feel better. You can’t shake this feeling of uneasiness and the volume of blood at the scene makes this feeling worse. It feels like you’re being watched. 

After searching the helicopter you file into formation, flashlights and weapons drawn as the sun is completely set. Alpha team moves as a unit in teams of two, Chris takes the front right spot as the Pointman, Barry on his left, with Wesker and Joe behind him, finishing with you and Jill in up the back. Everyone seems to be higher strung than normal, Jill practically rounds on you when you step on a twig. 

Your squad makes their way through the forest, looking for any signs of Bravo team or where they may have gone. Ambient noise was natural in the woods, but you kept hearing distinct noises repeatedly: soft foot fall, labored breaths and something that sounded like a low growling. Your team was being stalked by something, hunted. 

“I think there’s something flanking us, right side. Joe, Chris, eyes up.” You signaled over the radio. 

“Roger that.” Joe responded back; you, Joe and Chris made up the right side of the formation while Jill, Wesker and Barry were on the left. Joe slowed in front of you, looking into the trees with his gun ready. The snap of a branch makes him jump, relaxing slightly once he realizes what it is.

That’s when they attack, about a dozen dobermans rush out from the tree cover, ambushing him. His screams ring out through the woods and Jill fires into the mass of bodies, emptying her clip with no results. She stands there, frozen as one of the dogs turns its head and looks towards the two of you. Something isn’t right about them, they’re covered in blood and seem to be rotting, no normal dogs were that vicious. 

“Jill we need to go!” There was nothing you could do for Joseph, his screams had stopped and you knew he was dead, you had to run and you had to run now. The shock was clear on her face as she still stood there, you grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away, “Come on!!” 

You took off into the woods, the hounds hot on your heels. The two of you practically run into Chris, swearing as you nearly slip and fall. The helicopter buzzes overhead and you want to scream.

“Hey Brad! ” Chris yells out, “Where the hell is he going?” You grit your teeth as you run, pulling Jill along with you. You’re fast but the dogs are faster, it’s only a matter of time before they catch up. Chris stumbles a little bit behind you two, he isn’t going to make it. You see him turn as a dog lunges, about to bite his arm when a gunshot rings out.

“Chris this way!” It’s Wesker, he and Barry start firing as more dogs get closer. Up ahead you see the outline of a large old house, salvation.

“Make for that mansion!” You cry, your lungs burning from exertion. More shots ring out as Wesker and Barry provide covering fire. You crash into the old mansion’s door, wrenching it open, finding it surprisingly unlocked. The remaining members of Alpha team run in and Barry slams the door shut behind him. You all stand, catching your breath in a spacious foyer, terrified and exhausted. 

“Hey Wesker, where’s Chris?” Jill asks, panting slightly. You realize now that Chris isn’t with the rest of you.

“He was right behind us, he must have gotten separated somehow…” Jill rushes to the door but Wesker stops her.

“Jill don’t. You don't want to go back out there.” A crash comes from one of the nearby rooms, startling all of you.

“That could be Chris.” Jill says, you were all like family, even though Chris got on your and Jill’s nerves sometimes you were both still really worried about him.

“Go investigate, I’ll secure this area.” Wesker nods, sending the rest of you to search for Chris.

The dining room is huge and you immediately notice a pool of blood on the floor. Barry and Jill exchange a few words and Jill goes dips into another hall. Barry leans over the blood, and you look around the dining room. Shock and realization begin to set in as you get lost in your thoughts. 

Something about those dogs was off, and yet painfully familiar. The tissue degeneration, vicious behavior, the voracious hunger. Dread sets in. Surely it couldn’t be like what you saw in Africa? You’d only ever seen it affect humans, but you’d only seen a handful of cases. Could the T-virus really affect animals too?

“We have to get out of here…” You whisper to yourself, suddenly realizing that your nightmare had just begun, that your team had just stumbled into the belly of the beast, and that it was hungry.

“Barry!” Jill’s voice rang out as she ran into the room; following closely behind her was a man, or what was left of one, confirming your worst fears, “Look out! A monster!”

“Let me take care of it!” Barry roared, firing his magnum into the creature's chest three times until it slumped over. You rush over, grabbing Jill’s hand.

“Did it bite you? Did it touch you?” You’re frantic, mind racing as you thought out different scenarios. 

“N-no, no I’m fine.” You practically cry out in relief, thankful that she was okay.

“We need to burn the body.” You rub your temples, still thinking, trying to figure out what to do. You were all in more danger than you knew, you needed to find Bravo team and get the hell out of there.

“What? Why?” Barry asks gruffly.

“Because it’ll get back up if we don’t.” Your voice is strained and eerily quiet, your stress level building. 

“How could you possibly know that?” Barry asks again. You liked Barry, he was a great teammate and you enjoyed his company; it was hard not to see him as dad-like since he was a dad and acted like one. It was reasonable for him to ask questions, but in this moment it annoys you, you just want them to trust you, you don’t want to have to explain.

You take a deep breath, exhale and begin to tell them about your time in Africa. What you saw, the T-virus, the mysterious company. You leave out the information involving your research, it isn’t relevant and you do want to keep it a secret. When you’re done you’re shaking slightly, retraumatized all over again, but not as badly as the day before.

“You don’t have to believe me, but it’ll be a real pain for all of us if that thing gets back up.” Jill and Barry are quiet for a moment. 

“You knew about something like that and kept it to yourself?” Jill’s question is quiet, almost as if she feels slightly betrayed.

Your heart aches, you wish you could make her understand, “Who was I going to tell Jill? My captain, who was in on the experiment? The US government, who was looking to buy the virus? I was alone, I was scared, trying to hunt down a homicidal mystery company in Africa of all places.” She is silent, but after a minute she nods apologetically at you like she understands.

“I, uh, got a lighter.” Barry breaks the silence and you’re grateful; you wonder if his daughters fight much at home. The three of you carefully torch the body, watching as it smokes and eventually goes out. You make your way back to the foyer to meet up with Wesker, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your heart sinks. 

“Let’s split up and search.” The three of you agree to divide and conquer, and you realize how much more serious this is for you. Not only was Bravo team missing, but now Chris and Wesker were too; on top of that, the mansion you’d discovered belonged to the mysterious company manufacturing the T-virus that you’d fled from in Africa. The thought of losing Wesker almost brings you to your knees, bringing you back to the previous day when you’d pointed your gun at him. The thoughts make you want to puke. Finding him dead was not an option. 

You were filled with new resolve, angry. You were tired of running from your past, you vowed to find and expose this company and all that they had done; they wouldn’t get away with this anymore, the senseless killing, the human testing. You’d put a stop to it yourself. 

The mansion is huge and built like a maze, with puzzles and traps everywhere as well as infected people wandering the halls. It was difficult just to stay alive, let alone look for Bravo team, Chris, or Wesker. You felt like you were going in circles, anytime you were close to gaining your bearings a zombie would stumble up and you’d be lost all over again. You kick a previously locked door out of frustration, to your surprise it opens, enough force behind your blow to knock it off its hinges. The room is small, lined with shelves and has a computer and desk to one side; it seemed to be a personal office. 

After checking the room thoroughly for any infected and securing the door well enough behind you, you went to the computer, hoping to find something helpful. The screen lights up almost cheerfully with the Umbrella Pharmaceutical logo, asking for a name and pass code.

“So it’s Umbrella then…” You muse to yourself, shocked. The pharmaceutical company had tried recruiting you to their team at one point, to think that they were developing bioweapons was insane. It nauseates you to think about how seriously you’d considered their offer. 

You slam your fist on the desk out of frustration, you didn’t know the damn pass code. You shuffle through the desk drawers, hoping that the previous owner was forgetful and wrote it down. There was tons of stuff in the drawers but as luck would have it, there was a notepad with the person’s username and password written down. You practically jumped for joy, quickly typing in the information. Thankfully the person who owned this office had decently high clearance and on the computer before you lay all the information you could possibly want about Umbrella’s activities, detailed reports about the T-virus, bioweapons testing, previous and future planned experiments. It could take you days to look through so much data, you didn’t have the time.

You look through the drawers again, hopeful that your luck will continue and that you find something you could download things onto. By the grace of some higher power you do, finding a thumb drive and hastily plugging it into the computer, you start the process of downloading everything on the hard drive. Your stomach sinks, your victory short lived. There was just too much information on the computer, you would have to pick and choose the most important seeming information. 

“Damn it.” It would take you a while, but it needed to be done; getting this information out of the building was critical. You flick through the files, taking the obviously important ones like, ‘T-Virus,’ another labelled ‘G-Virus,’ and various others including: Progenitor, T-Veronica, Experiment W, Tyrant Project, Talos project, Cerberus. You find a folder detailing information on the Stairway to the Sun flowers, and another with reports from trials run by their African facility. You grab anything that looks important, or details something horrible that Umbrella did, trying to take as much information as you could. 

Your mouse hovers over a folder entitled ‘Wesker Project,’ hesitant to click it. Surely it was a coincidence? You didn’t have time to look through it, you drag it into the thumb drive and push it to the back of your mind, trying not to think about it. Before long the thumb drive is full, and you barely have a fraction of the information on the computer. You want to curse but you’re a doctor, not a damn spy; you had no reason to bring anything that dealt with downloading things off computers. You were lucky the poor sap before you even had something you could use, now at least you had some data to study, something you could use. 

As a last ditch effort you decide to take apart the computer, thinking you could remove the hard drive and take it with you to mess with later; that is, if you could even identify the hard drive or figure out how to open the computer up in the first place. The screws holding the side panel in place come loose with enough prying and you manage to pull the piece off, you stare at the computer’s innards for a moment, trying to figure out what things were. 

You had some experience with computers, but Umbrella’s tech was far beyond anything you’d ever worked with. You figure the fans used to cool the machine weren’t helpful and pry what you think is the hard drive out from the main console, slipping it into a pocket on your vest. You hesitate for a moment, taking another important looking piece of red colored equipment out of the machine, pocketing it and the paper with the pass code, just in case. At least if you grabbed the wrong things you still had the thumb drive.

You hadn’t realized how much time had elapsed, it had been several hours since you’d entered the office, and you hadn’t even had a chance to look at the books on the shelves. You needed to get back to Jill and Barry, hopefully they were still safe and had found Chris and Wesker. A woman’s scream stirs you from your thoughts and you spring into action, gun drawn you start running towards the source. 

“Chris! Help!!” It sounds like, Rebecca? You run down the hall, pushing through a half open door only to see a large, reptilian creature cornering Rebecca; she had fallen to the floor while backing up and the monster was ready to make the killing blow. You recognize the beast from the computer as a Hunter Beta, a lethal t-virus monstrosity Umbrella had cooked up. It turns to face you as you come in the room and you unload your gun into it. It shudders but charges you, taking a swing at you with its claws. You manage to side step in time, reloading your gun and firing at it more. It falls to the floor and you put another three bullets in its head just to be sure it stays down. As you finish it off, Chris runs into the room. 

“Chris, Rebecca, you have no idea how happy I am to see you two.” You want to sob with joy, they’re both okay.

“Pretty damn happy to see you too, where’s Barry, Jill and Wesker?” Chris asks.

“We split up to look for you and Bravo team, were either of you bitten or hurt? Are you okay?” You offer Rebecca your hand, helping her up off the floor, pulling her into a hug. 

She shakes her head, “No, and okay is a relative term.” 

“I’m fine, but… Rebecca is the last of Bravo team.” Rebecca looks to be near tears, and you don’t blame her. She’d been out here in this hell longer than any of them, watching her squad die. 

“Damn it.” You blow air out through your teeth. This was a huge loss for all of you, and you still had to survive and find a way out, “We need to find the rest of Alpha team and get the hell out of here.” 

“Should we split up and look?” Chris asks, you shake your head. 

“No, we’re stronger as a unit, we can’t risk getting separated anymore. I found a computer with a ton of information on it. There’s a lab underneath this mansion. The virus is loose in this facility and we need to stop it from getting out, we have to destroy this place.” 

“How do we do that?” Rebecca seems to be putting on a brave face; the sole survivor of Bravo team, determined to avenge her squadmates. 

“Down in the lab there should be a place to start a self destruct sequence; Umbrella keeps them in most of their facilities in case of emergencies. We’re going to find Barry, Jill and Wesker and then blow this place sky-high.” 

The three of you moved with new purpose, having a plan invigorated you, and the prospect of escaping this place was exciting enough on its own. Fighting your way through zombies and other Umbrella monstrosities you made your way down towards the lab, Chris taking point in front, you taking the leader position in the middle and Rebecca following behind. The time you’d spent on the computer was well worth it, understanding the layout of the mansion much more clearly now you were able to lead Chris and Rebecca through the upper levels to the facility below. 

The elevator ride was quiet, you were all clearly shaken up, but hope was on the horizon. You were so close to being able to leave this place. You were determined to get them out, you had the most experience with Umbrella and their monsters, it was up to you to step up and be the leader here. 

“There should be a room down here where we can start the self destruct sequence, it should also be where the security cameras are monitored, so we should be able to find the rest of Alpha team.” Chris nods in affirmation and you follow the hall around a corner. The sound of shattering glass comes from behind and a blaring alarm begins to ring through the halls. 

“You two get to the self destruct sequence, I’ll investigate! Meet me outside!” You shout at them, pushing Rebecca in front of you towards Chris as you run back the way you came. It was up to them to destroy the facility. You had a bad feeling about that sound, knowing Umbrella kept some larger experimental bioweapons at this facility, including the Talos and Tyrant Projects; the alarm could only mean one thing, something big had escaped. 

The sound of gunfire, a beastly roar and a man’s groan only confirm your fears, you kick a metal door open, only to see a giant humanoid monster throw Barry against a wall. 

“The Tyrant…” You gasp, recognizing it from photos on the computer. It was even more horrifying in person, with long mutated claws and grotesque heart protruding from its chest. You were nearly transfixed by it, the curious science minded side of you wanting to study it, fascinated. It’s Jill’s voice that snaps you back to reality. 

“Jesus Christ!” She yells, unloading her pistol into its chest. Strapped to her back is a grenade launcher, she’d probably found it in the mansion somewhere, as it clearly isn’t STARS issue. 

“Aim for the heart!” You shout, firing your own gun at its weak spot. The monster flinches but shows no sign of slowing down. It charges at you, you manage to dodge but only barely; feeling the force created as its claws missed your face. You plug a few more shots into its back at point blank distance before running, staying close to it would be a mistake. 

“Take this you big ugly bastard!” Jill yells, firing her grenade launcher at the beast, you dive and manage to roll behind some cover as it explodes against the monster, lighting up the room with sharp light and blazing heat. She fires again, relentless; and you take more shots from behind cover. You catch sight of Barry as you reload your gun and you rush over to him, cursing yourself for not thinking of him sooner.   
“Jill!” You cry out, she dances with the Tyrant but she sees you and understands. 

“I got this! Take care of Barry!” The sound of her gun fills the room as she continues to take shots at the Tyrant, keeping him at bay long enough for you to tend to Barry. 

You shake his shoulders, he’s been knocked unconscious, probably hitting his head when the Tyrant threw him. He was lucky it decided to throw him instead of gore him with its claws.   
“Barry come on… Wake up!” You pull an alcohol wipe out of one of your side pockets, tearing it open and waving it under his nose, hoping the smell will help wake him faster. He stirs under you and you shake him again, “Come on Barry!” His eyes open. 

“Wh- What the hell?” 

You sigh in relief, at least he was awake, “Do you know your name and where you are?” 

“Yeah, Barry Burton, and I’m in Hell…” You stifle a laugh.

“Good enough, come on.” You help him to his feet as Jill cries out, dodging a swipe and rolling towards you two. 

“Could use some help here!!” She shouts, hastily reloading her gun. You and Barry raise your guns, advancing on the Tyrant. You shine your flashlight in its eyes as you shoot, trying to blind it. Barry fires his magnum into its heart, he always was a good shot. Jill steps forward with the grenade launcher once again, this time ready to finish the job. She fires her final flame round at the creature with a battle cry, setting it ablaze. It roars in pain, collapsing to its knees before falling to the ground, defeated. 

The three of you pant, running on fumes and low on ammo. 

“Sorry Jill, that was careless of me.” Jill turns to him, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” As the two of them talk for a moment you examine the remains of the room. It was clearly a lab, probably where they worked on the Tyrant project. You see the giant glass tube where the creature escaped, a control panel covered in blood, and then, you see him. 

Your hand flies to your face as you cry out and you run to him, not caring about the broken glass and blood you were kneeling in, his blood. Captain Wesker was slumped against the Tyrant tube, his body full of gaping holes where the Tyrant’s claws had pierced him. You press your hand to his neck, desperate to feel a pulse, sobbing as you find none. 

“Wes- Wesker… Albert, no… No no no no, this can’t be happening.” You cry to yourself, tears falling fast and hot from your cheeks to his bloodied chest. You stroke his face, his skin is still warm to the touch. His blood is on your hands and it smears across him, you try to wipe it off but you’re soaked in it, covered in his blood. You take his hand and hold it tight, you want to pull him into your arms, to cry and to scream, he couldn’t be dead, not your Al. 

Jill’s hand touches your shoulder but you don’t flinch. 

“He… He betrayed us.” You barely hear her voice, it’s like you’re not there, your crying eyes focused on Wesker’s face, “He was working for Umbrella the whole time, he blackmailed Barry into helping him.” 

Her words stir something in you, surely she was lying. Wesker, working for Umbrella? The same Wesker that had held you while you told him what saw Umbrella do in Africa? You didn’t want to believe it, but the pieces began to fall into place. His interest in your research yesterday, his insistence that you stay behind on this mission, the “Wesker” project file you’d seen on the computer. 

“No… No he wouldn’t” Your voice shakes and you cannot stop the tears, practically in hysterics as you kneel next to his lifeless body, covered in his blood, exhausted from the battle with his killer. 

“He said he kidnapped my family, my two little girls… He made me betray all of you, hold a gun on Jill. If you’d gotten here a little sooner, you’d have seen it happen.” Barry’s words echo in your ears, why would they both lie to you. They had to be telling the truth. 

The self destruct sequence alarm rings out overhead, warning all of you to leave the building.   
“They found it then… Chris and Rebecca…” Jill and Barry exchange a look, unsure what to do. Your captain was dead, you were in hysterics on the floor and now the facility was getting ready to explode. From Jill’s waistband you hear Brad’s voice on a radio, urging STARS to give him a sign. 

“We have to get upstairs, we can signal Brad and get the hell out of here.” Jill says, almost excitedly.

“Chris and Rebecca will meet us there, I told them to go outside once the self destruct was started.” You start to stand, grabbing Wesker’s arm, you try to sling it over your shoulder, he’s heavy, being heavier in death as dead weight and you stumble trying to pick him up. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Barry catches you, pulling you away from Wesker, whose body slips back to the floor. 

“We can’t just leave him here!!” You cry out, trying to wrestle yourself free from Barry’s grasp, but he holds you steadfast, wrapping both his arms around your waist. You struggle against him but he is much larger than you, pulling you back and away from Wesker’s body.

“Leave him! We can’t carry him out of here, not with the zombies everywhere. You don’t know if that thing infected him either!” Barry half drags, half carries you around the corner and out of the room, his body fading from view as you cry out his name. Jill tries not to look at you. Barry sets you on your feet outside the room, Jill shutting the door behind you, she puts her hands on your shoulders and forces you to look her in the eyes. 

“We have to get out of here.” You meet her eyes reluctantly, but she and Barry are right. You take a deep breath and wipe the tears away, not realizing you’re smearing Wesker’s blood across your face. 

You nod, “The elevators won’t work during the self destruct, we’ll have to take the stairs, they should be down the hall on the right.” The three of you head off, hustling out of the facility, up through the mansion and out onto the grounds, where the sun has risen. Chris and Rebecca are there already, relieved to see you all, wisely not asking about the blood. Barry tells them about Wesker while Jill looks for something to signal Brad with. 

You’re shell shocked, the events of the night catching up with you in a rush. You want to collapse to the ground, hug your knees and sob. You wish Wesker was here, he always knew how to make you feel better, whether it was a reassuring touch or comforting half smile, hell, even sparring with him would be better than the current outcome. You longingly look towards the mansion, half hoping he will run through the doors and tell you it was all a bad dream. 

Jill comes back with a box of flares and hastily sets one off, it feels as though all of STARS is holding their breath, waiting for some sign that Brad had seen it and was coming to save them. The chopper appears on the horizon and Chris cheers, Rebecca gives Jill a hug. You want to smile but find yourself unable to, the nightmare was seemingly over but something didn’t feel right to you. 

The ground rumbles under your feet as the Tyrant explodes upwards from the ground, somehow tunneling or climbing out from the facility below. It hadn’t died before.

“Shit!” Jill yells out, Rebecca screams, it’s her first time seeing the horror of Umbrella’s Tyrant project. You don’t hesitate to fire your gun at it, but your ammo stores are running low, it won't be long before your gun is useless. Luckily Chris still seems to have some ammo, doing his best to take the brunt of the creatures attention, yelling obscenities at it and firing round after round into its bloody chest. You, Barry, Jill and Rebecca also take turns shooting at it as the chopper draws near until Brad is circling overhead, dropping a weapons case out from the helicopter. It nearly hits you behind your cover. 

“Use it!” Shouts Brad from the chopper. You are the closest, unbuckling the case to reveal a rocket launcher, you just hope it’s enough to take the Tyrant down. You load the weapon, heaving it onto your shoulder; it’s heavy but you can manage. All of your anger at Umbrella bubbles inside you, your trauma in Africa, your time in the mansion, the loss and betrayal of Wesker, you want to scream.

“Chris!” You yell, getting his attention. He sees the RPG on your shoulder and starts to run for cover as you fire the missile at the creature. It’s almost like watching in slow motion as the rocket flies towards the Tyrant, colliding with its chest and exploding the beast into pieces. A shower of blood rains from the explosion, coating the nearby ground. You don’t even flinch, jaded at this point. 

Brad is able to land the helicopter, you’re all able to board it and take off before the mansion explodes. Watching the hell house become engulfed in flames as it disappears on the horizon. Jill leans on Chris’s shoulder and Rebecca leans on yours, both drifting to sleep. Barry’s head is resting on the headrest behind him, eyes closed. Perhaps they thought things were over, that they could go back to their normal lives after this, but you knew better. Umbrella was still out there, working on their horrible experiments; it was only a matter of time before there was a larger scale outbreak, and you had to try and stop it. 

You don’t dare try to close your eyes like the others, you know what you’ll see behind closed lids. The thoughts were enough to keep you from sleeping and you knew the nightmares would be worse. The seat next to you is painfully empty, the captain’s seat, Wesker’s seat. Your heart aches, wishing you could lean your head on his shoulder for the comfort everyone else was seeking. Rebecca snores softly against you and you’re thankful she made it out, Bravo team’s sole survivor. You lean your head on top of hers, slinging your arm around her as a comforting gesture; she snuggles into you, grateful even though asleep. 

You squeeze Rebecca lightly, vowing to bring Umbrella down. You didn’t want anybody to have to go through anything like this ever again. You’d destroy the t-virus yourself if you had to. You’d make Umbrella beg for mercy, make them wish they’d killed you in that mansion, or back in Africa. You were done with hiding, done with running; you were the hunter now and nothing would stop you from getting your prey. 

You would bring Umbrella to its knees. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wesker :( 
> 
> I hope this isn't unbearable to read, it was fun trying to fit the events of a 4+ hour game into a relatively short story. It was also fun translating the events of the game into writing! Using the game dialogue specifically was interesting. 
> 
> If anyones curious, I follow the timeline laid out by the GamerthumbTV on youtube, he has a really interesting youtube series that goes into extreme detail of all Resident Evil content, and he explains everything really clearly. It's a very long series but if you're obsessed like me you may enjoy it! Here's the first vid! :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJ0opIGsMKE&list=PLS6LTVm6e_nsa0St9a7PcaEffuH57PtlY&index=1
> 
> I tried to follow how I thought things would unfold if our character was actually in the scenario, what she would do and how she would react. Sorry to anyone looking for more porn, there will be more!! I'm trying to get to more interesting post '98 events, but I do have big plans for some raunchy scenes! But, for now try to enjoy the story development and look forward to the sex later !! ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Two days later,

You and the other remaining members of STARS had decided to meet privately to discuss the events of the mansion and decide on a plan moving forward. During the awful night you’d all gathered evidence that Umbrella Pharmaceuticals was secretly developing and testing bioweapons; some sort of outbreak had occurred and that’s what set the events at the mansion in motion. Unfortunately, not much physical proof had actually made it out of the building. You had managed to snag a thumb drive with copies of Umbrella’s research logs, as well as a hard drive with a trove of information and a strange piece of red equipment you couldn’t quite figure out. However, you hadn’t had much luck with the hard drive; Umbrella’s tech was incredibly advanced, and you’d been unable to open it with your current computer. You still had the thumb drive, but there was no guarantee that anyone would believe what was on it.

You’d not been paying attention to the conversation, the events of the mansion still fresh in your mind; thoughts swimming with the data and various projects on the thumb drive. You couldn’t help but think of Wesker either, despite your best attempts not too; you’d been avoiding the ‘Wesker Project,’ file on the drive, trying to spare yourself some pain, you knew you’d have to look at it eventually though.

“What do you mean you helped him?” Chris’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, he’s angry, having pushed himself out of his chair to get in Barry’s face. Barry stands his ground though, not letting the younger man intimidate him.

“I thought they had my fucking family Chris, what was I supposed to do!” Barry pushes Chris back with a finger to the chest, it seems like things are going to get heated. You watch with almost flippant disinterest, your emotions have been all over the place since the mansion. 

“You should have come to one of us!!” Chris gets in his face again, almost irrationally angry, it seems you aren’t the only one whose emotions have been unusual. It is Jill who stops them, placing her arm between them, eyes lowered at Chris. 

“ _Enough_.” If anyone should be angry at Barry it should be her, it was her head at the end of his gun after all; but she understood the leverage Wesker had used over him. Your eyes flutter as you think about it. The leverage Wesker had used, the thought rings in your mind. 

You decide to move the conversation along, remembering what Barry had been talking about previously, “You said Wesker injected himself with something?” If he’d felt the need to take one of Umbrella’s prototype drugs, it must have been important. 

Barry nods, “It was purple, thick syringe, looked painful but he didn’t flinch.” He said gruffly. Interesting. You’d have to look through the files you had and see if you could find anything that matched. 

The meeting continues for a while longer, with everyone going over the details of what happened to them at the mansion, stories overlapping as your paths had crossed. You all agreed to write a report and take it to Police Chief Irons, your boss. You also told everyone they’d have to come see you for a medical exam, to make sure everyone was unharmed and fit for duty; you were a doctor after all, and that was one of the duties you normally completed post mission. 

  
  


The medical exams went smoothly, the full body exams used to be awkward, but after two years together as a team you were used to seeing everyone nude; It didn’t bother you at least, it was a regular duty as a doctor. Brad went first, though you likely could have skipped his exam, deciding to be safe rather than sorry, he was predictably fine. Chris and Barry were relatively unharmed, Barry had suffered a minor concussion from when the Tyrant slammed him against the wall but he’d recover quickly, and Chris had some minor cuts and bruises that you were careful to clean. Jill was surprisingly clean as well, coming out with a few large bruises and no broken skin. 

Rebecca was last, she was the most beat up of everyone, having been at the mansion the longest. Luckily she was mostly unharmed, making it out with one cut that needed stitches and some bruising. You’d carefully cleaned her minor cuts after checking her skin and were currently stitching the laceration on her arm up. She stared blankly at the wall while you focused on the wall. You were close enough to her to see a new set of dog tags around her neck.

“Where’d you get those tags Becca?” You ask, using her nickname to try and feel a sense of normalcy. She’s startled a little, as if she’d hope no one would notice them. 

“Before I came to the mansion I was helped by an inmate named Billy… H-he died…” She was lying, you could feel her breathing tense and her heart rate rise as you sew the next stitch as gently as you can, but you don’t push the issue.   
“I’m sorry,” It sounded like a sore subject, even if he didn’t really die, “It doesn’t hurt too much does it?” You ask, trying to finish stitching her arm as quickly as you can; only a few stitches left. 

“Not with you doing it.” It’s a sweet thing for her to say, you know it hurts but Rebecca was a trooper. You finish up and cut your thread. 

“All done, you were my last patient.” She hops off the exam table, pulling her shirt down over her shoulder; you’d allowed her to get redressed after your preliminary skin check.

“What about you?” Her question surprises you, you hadn’t even considered getting examined yourself, you hadn’t needed to in the past. 

“Well, what about me?” She fixes her concerned doe-eyes on you, the intensity of her gaze reminding you of Wesker for a moment, making you want to scream and run out of the room, never wanting to be looked at like that again. You knew it was out of care and love but it still made you panic; she must have noticed your change in demeanor because she reaches out to comfort you, placing a hand on your forearm.   
“I’m a medic, I could do it if you wanted.” You stare at her blankly, rooted to the spot like a deer in headlights, but you manage a small nod, “I’ll turn around and you can get undressed, then we can do the skin check.” She continues.

You pull your gloves off, tossing them into the trash, pulling your white lab coat off next, then the scrubs you’d put on for the exam, deciding to leave on your undergarments. Meanwhile Rebecca dons a pair of gloves while you sit on the table.

“Okay.” You say softly, hoping to get your exam done quickly, finally understanding why the rest of STARS didn’t care for these meetings. 

Rebecca turns around, forcing a big smile; she wasn’t a full-fledged doctor, but you suspected she’d take that path one day. Her smile drops and her eyes fill with horror as she gets a good look at you. You don’t understand why, you glance down at your legs and you gasp. You are covered in blood. 

“Oh my god, did you never shower?” Her question reverberates through you. Had you not? You could have sworn you did, sometime in between looking through the Umbrella files and the few hours of nightmarish sleep you got.

“I…” Rebecca examined your legs, they were caked in dried blood. Wesker’s blood. You’d been so focused on looking into Umbrella’s work that you must have forgotten somehow. Rebecca takes an alcohol wipe and starts to scrub away the blood, you cry out in pain, gripping the table. Fresh blood oozes out of cuts on your legs, cuts you’d previously been unaware of. 

“Jesus, there’s _glass_ in your legs!! You went _two days_ like this?” She goes in more gently with the wipe, trying to clear the dried blood from the area so she can see your cuts more clearly. 

“I… I didn’t notice.” The past two days are a blur, your nightmares forced you awake every few hours, sweating and screaming, and all your waking hours had been consumed by Umbrella’s files. Now that she mentioned it, your legs did ache, finally noticing the pain you were in. You look down at your hands, Wesker’s blood still caked under your nails. How had you forgotten to shower? 

Rebecca goes to town on your legs, soon there’s a pile of bloody alcohol wipes discarded next to her as the skin on your legs begins to become visible again. Already you can see dozens of slashes where glass from the Tyrant’s containment unit had pierced your legs when you’d leaned over Wesker. A decent sized shard sticks out from your upper shin and you stare at it in disbelief. How could you have possibly gone days like this? You reach for it hesitantly, hand shaking; but Rebecca slaps your hand away.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m going to be removing these.” The process takes what feels like hours as Rebecca pain-stakingly removes over 30 glass shards of various sizes from your calves and knees. By the end of it fresh blood from the agitated cuts drips down your legs and your jaw aches from gritting your teeth to keep from screaming, but the glass is removed. Rebecca gives your legs a final wipe down, cleaning them carefully as you’d done for her cuts. 

You’re shell-shocked, coming to terms with how you’d completely neglected yourself; was it out of grief? Out of some insane work driven fervor? Were you coping with the trauma and loss by pushing yourself too hard? Your head is swimming and the room is spinning; you want to puke.

Rebecca finishes your skin check, covering you in your lab coat as she inspects your face; shining a light in your eyes to check your pupil dilation. She finishes up the exam and removes her gloves, sighing as she does.

“I know we’ve been through a lot, but you need to take better care of yourself.” She says, arms crossed. You feel almost selfish for a moment, you’d all been through hell at the mansion but it seemed like you were taking it harder; or at least, being slightly self destructive. 

“I know, I… I’m sorry…” You trail off, thoughts wandering to Africa and how after the outbreak you’d thrown yourself into your work; trying to hunt down Umbrella, researching the uponyaji trees and drowning yourself in humanitarian aid jobs, “I guess I never realized this is how I respond to trauma… Working myself too hard, not taking care of myself.” 

Rebecca places her hand over yours, offering you a strained smile, “We’ll get them, but not if you don’t stay healthy.” You nod, promising her to do better going forward. 

Unbeknownst to you, trace amounts of Wesker's blood lingered in your system thanks to your negligence, experimental virus and all; a parting gift from your dead lover, one that you’d need very soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're going through trauma ladies!


	7. Chapter 7

August 3rd, 1998

The meeting with Chief Irons did not go as expected, with him refusing to believe what happened at the mansion; almost suspiciously. The meeting devolved into a wild shouting match and he’d thrown what was left of STARS out of his office. Today the news came that you were all out of a job, STARS was being disbanded. You aren’t surprised, but it is still painful; you loved STARS. You know your time in Raccoon City is coming to an end, but you’re not ready to leave yet; you know Umbrella is close and STARS is determined to bring them to justice.

You move your plants to a warehouse a few cities over, where you hope they’ll be safe; setting them up with automatic water and a camera system so you can check on them. Chris and Barry were following up on a lead in Europe, and Rebecca had left the city to pursue further schooling elsewhere; leaving you, Jill and Brad still in Raccoon city. Brad managed to secure a job at the police station by pretending to side with Irons, but you and Jill are out of luck. You move into Jill’s apartment for the time being, deciding to room with her until you both would leave in September. 

You stand in front of the door to Wesker’s apartment, finding yourself unable to reach for the door knob. The captain had no living relatives on file and the rest of STARS despised him, leaving his post mortem care in your hands: an estate sale, dealing with his will, funeral, things like that. It was painful, but no one else would do it.

You force yourself to grab the knob and turn the key, pushing the door open and nearly slamming it behind you. His apartment is just as he left it, neat and tidy, with nothing out of place. Your heart clenches and you cannot stop soft tears from falling as two years of memories wash over you; memories you shared with him at this place. You half expect him to come out of his study, happy to see you. 

You walk around slowly, taking in the sight of everything, running your fingers over the leather of the couch. You sigh, you couldn’t stay long today, you’d come with a task to complete and it was important that you got it done. Before you head to his study to examine his computer you go check his bedroom. You knew he kept a special pistol in his bedside table and you wanted it; not like he needed it anymore. 

You pull it out of the drawer, it was a custom Samurai Edge that Wesker had commissioned from Kendo, your local gunsmith. It had gold accented trim and had his surname inscribed along the barrel. It had been special to him, he was proud of the gun, having helped Kendo design it. He rarely took it on missions, preferring to save it for the shooting range, or in case of emergencies. You held it in your palm, examining it carefully; it was a traitor’s weapon, you thought. You push the thoughts away, load the gun, flick on the safety and tuck it into the gun holster underneath your coat. 

You leave the bedroom, trying not to think about how much the room smelled like him, or the things you’d done in that room together, and enter the study. You hadn’t been into his office many times, he preferred you stay out, telling you that his freelance work was private and to stay away from his computer. You realize now how stupid you’d been believing him, not that you’d had a reason not to; his computer was off limits because he did work for Umbrella on it, work you hoped to look through now. 

The computer surprisingly doesn’t require a password, and you’re able to get in easily. Since the mansion incident you’d gotten your hands on some heavy duty thumb drives, not wanting to be in the same situation again where you were unable to take data you needed. You plug one into the computer and start downloading its contents; you don’t want to be in Wesker’s apartment longer than you have to, the ghost of his memory too much for you to bear. It would be better for you to look at it on your own computer, you’d be able to focus better in Jill’s apartment. 

The download starts to stall around eighty percent, much to your annoyance. You pace around the room, desperate to leave. The sound of the front door unlocking makes your blood run cold and stops you in your tracks. Who else would have keys to the apartment? Voices come from down the hall.

“Gotta take everything outta here… wipe it clean… no trace....” It’s difficult to make out what they’re saying, but you know they’re from Umbrella, they have to be. They must be the clean up crew, here to remove evidence, the evidence you were downloading now. Your thoughts go into hyper drive, you had to get out with the thumb drive and not be seen. 

There was a window you could climb out and luckily, a fire escape. You quietly walk to the office door, thankful you’d closed it behind you when you’d walked in, and lock it. Your download is at ninety three percent, so close to being done. Footsteps approach the door.

“There should be a computer in here.” The handle jiggles, “Damn it it’s locked, there a key for this door?” The voices start to argue. 

“What do you mean it's locked?” The computer beeps and your download is done, you rip the drive out of it, hastily booting the computer down and running for the window. You struggle to open it, fiddling with the lock for longer than you’d like. 

“Gentlemen please, allow me.” A smoother voice interjects, had you been paying attention or been less panicked, you may have recognized it. As you manage to get the window open and start to climb through it the door flies off its hinges, kicked open with an extreme amount of force. Adrenaline courses through you as you sprint down the fire escape, jumping over railings onto the street below, not daring to look behind you, disappearing into the crowd of the street. 

You don’t see the amber eyes that stalk you as you run or the impressed wolfish smile that trails after you. You may be Umbrella’s hunter now, but there was always a larger predator; Wesker wasn’t finished with you and your little game was just beginning.


	8. Chapter 8

September 28th, 1998

You’d been planning on leaving the city on the thirtieth, but with STARS rotten luck an outbreak had started just days before you’d planned to leave. You and Jill had been quarantined in the apartment for days, hoping the military’s presence in the city would clear up the infection, but the dead outnumbered the living, and the military was pulling out. You had to find a way out of the city and you had to do it soon. 

You were packing the few things you had left, you’d been living bare bones in preparation to move, but you still had some things with you. You’d formed a bad habit of sleeping with your gun holsters, tactical clothes and shoes on, especially since the outbreak had started, wanting to be prepared to leave at any time. Jill was in the bathroom, having woken up from a bad nightmare. The nightmares kept you both up at night. Meanwhile, you checked your bag, making sure you had ammo, medical supplies and all the data you’d collected on Umbrella from the mansion and Wesker’s computers. 

The phone rang as Jill was coming out of the bathroom and she moved to answer it. It was late at night, and you two didn’t normally get phone calls. Dread fills your stomach as you prepare for the worst, shouldering your backpack and slipping your guns into their holsters; your regular pistol and your Wesker model Samurai Edge. 

“Brad? Is that you?” She paused, listening to him on the other end. If Brad was calling it couldn’t be good, “Okay, let me grab my-” 

She’s cut off as the wall in front of her explodes open, sending her flying backwards in a shower of bricks. A tall humanoid steps through, wrapped in a leathery fabric. 

“Jill!” You yell as the creature kicks her into the wall. She manages to hold onto her handgun, firing off shots into its skull as it grips her shoulder and throws her, slamming her into the ground. She’s closer to you now and you grab her hand, pulling her with you as you run for the door, kicking it closed behind you and running down the hall.

“What the hell is that thing?” She asks, semi-rhetorical; if anyone would know it was you, you were the most familiar with Umbrella’s research, having spent countless hours pouring over the files you had. 

“I don’t know!” You shout back, turning to look behind you as the creature appears in the hallway, throwing a massive chunk of wall towards you, “Duck!” The two of you manage to avoid it, running into an empty apartment and dropping a bookcase in front of the door. While you didn’t recognize this creature specifically, it seemed to be Tyrant based , though it looked different. You knew Umbrella Europe was working on a huge Tyrant project, that’s what Chris and Barry had gone to investigate, but you hadn’t received word from them or any further details about the project.

You both climb out an open window onto the fire escape, ducking into another window when your path is blocked. The monster slams through the ceiling, knocking you away from Jill. She crawls away from the creature, under a piece of collapsed ceiling, you hold out your hand for her. It grabs her with what looks like a tentacle but she manages to slice it away, she grabs your hand and you pull her through. You take off down the hall again, another explosion sending you both flying through the emergency door.

“Jesus Christ…” She gasps out, and you two both hustle down the fire escape. She’s limping, clearly hurt. You head towards a ladder, only for the creature to punch through the nearby wall again, grabbing Jill and throwing her back into the burning building. You are frankly getting annoyed at this point. 

“Shit, Jill!” You cry, running in after them, the beast takes a swing at you but you dodge, rolling towards Jill. It punches the floor, sending you all falling to the level below. You both struggle to stand, the wind knocked out of you, but the monster gives you no time to recover, charging at you with a piece of concrete, “Come on!” You yell, once again running down the hall, crashing through the doorway, watching as it turns to rubble behind you. You and Jill catch your breath for a second, unsure if it was safe. The city was ablaze around you, screams and sirens echoing through the streets as the virus tore through the city. 

“Hey, over here!” It’s Brad’s voice, he’d called to warn the two of you about the creature and had come to your apartment to check on you, “You guys okay?” 

Jill ignores his question, leaning into you slightly as you approach him, “What was that thing?” 

“Damned if I know, but right now its got a hard on for the only three STARS left in town, us. I'm not sticking around.” He gestured to the burning street around you, “Just look around you, the longer we wait, the more screwed we are.” 

“How’d this all happen so fast?” For a moment the desperation and sadness peaks through in her voice.

“I don’t know, but one fucked up thing always leads to another. It’s like Arklay on steroids!” You and Jill follow Brad down the street, he tries to flag down a helicopter. You round the corner with Jill, finally getting to see how widespread the virus had become. You let out a small gasp, what must have been hundreds of people stood behind police barriers, infected by the t-virus. They knocked against the barricades, desperate to feed, and Brad stood a little too close. 

“Brad! Here they come!” You shout, noticing a second too late that the zombies had begun climbing the barriers, toppling them over with their weight. 

“In here!” He yelled, gesturing to a nearby bar; you and Jill ran inside, waiting as Brad threw a sign into the crowd, slamming the door behind him, “Door behind you, go!” He waved the two of you to the next door as he held the front one, giving you time to escape. You’d just reached it when Brad cried out in pain, a zombie given just enough room to push in and bite him, infecting him. 

“No, Brad!” You shout, Jill runs to the door, grabbing a knife off the floor and plunging it into the zombie’s forehead, pushing it off of him and shutting the door.

“Don’t think about it.” Jill tries to reassure him, “We’re going to make a run for it.” They struggle to hold the door as the infected slam into it.

“Come on Jill, we both know how this ends.” Brad says. He’s right, he’s infected now. With your research on the uponyaji trees stalled you were nowhere near a vaccine, and none of the treatments you had tried slowed the infection, not that you even had access to them currently. 

“No, I don't.” Jill responds, not willing to leave him behind. You stand at the back door, unsure what to do.

“Are we still a team?” Brad asks earnestly.

“Always.” Jill answers back. 

“Then do me a favor, don’t fuck up like I did. Go!” He pushes her off the door towards you, you grab her and pull her to her feet and you go out the back door, finding her a gun on a dead officer. 

“Damn it!” You shout, angry. You want to punch a wall. Brad may have left the team back at Arklay, but he’d repented; you’d all forgiven him, he was still STARS, still family. He must have still carried the guilt, his final sacrifice an apology for his previous failure. You notice Jill wipe away a few silent tears as you wipe away your own. 

A helicopter flies overhead, telling civilians to head to the roof of the nearby parking garage for extraction. You and Jill nod in silent agreement and head towards the building, making your way towards the top. The infected are everywhere and making it to the elevator is almost more than you two can manage, thankfully your paranoia had paid off, meaning you were well stocked on supplies and ammunition. 

The chopper is a relief to see at the top of the building, but the relief is short lived as something explodes near the back fan, causing it to spin out and crash, the blast slamming you both into the side of a car. You stagger to your feet, trying to catch your breath and you see what caused the crash; the creature that had been pursuing you was back. Jill wrenched the car door open, you didn’t know what her plan was but she was your partner and you’d trusted her; slipping into the passenger seat as she struggled to start the car.

“Come on come on…” She pleaded with the car as the monster stalked towards you. The engine roars to life and Jill roars with it, “It’s my turn bitch!” As she hits the gas, sending the car flying into the creature. It reaches through the shattered windshield, grabbing Jill by the throat; she keeps her foot on the gas, sending the three of you plummeting towards the ground. The car slams into the ground but by some miracle you’re both alive, in serious pain but alive. You both begin to stir, sobbing as you try to get out of the car. You notice the beast start to stand up and you groan.

“Shit!” You both scramble, getting out of the car just as it explodes, the force sending you both flying forwards again. Jill lands on her back and you almost land on top of her, making a mental note not to blindly follow her plans anymore, you roll onto your back as you catch sight of your pursuer, face covering burned away from the flame. You gasp, trying to get to your feet; it was unlike anything you’d ever seen, it’s tight, mangled skin pulled back to expose its huge bloody teeth. It was definitely Tyrant based, you recognized its humanoid form, tortured skin and enormous size, but something about it was different, it was much smarter than a regular Tyrant. 

“Hey fuck-face!” A man’s voice rings out through the streets as a rocket flies past you, aimed at the monster. It catches it with the tentacle-like appendage you saw earlier, throwing it towards a nearby building, but it is unable to catch the second one. The missile explodes into its chest and it falls to its knees. 

You finally stagger to your feet, reaching out to Jill, “It isn’t going to stay down long, we… we have to go.” Your words are ragged, feeling the effects of the chase on your body. The man rushes over to you two, starting to pick Jill up in his arms.

“Hey easy now, I got you.” He says.

“Wh-What? Who are you?” Jill asks, still winded. He pulls her to her feet, and you sling her other arm over your shoulder, helping them. 

“The name’s Carlos, and I’m saving you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Raccoon City time! I decided to break this into multiple chapters, since it's going to be long. I wanted to go into more detail than we did with the Mansion incident, focusing on the bond between Jill and our character; and developing the events of RE3 around our own narrative.   
> Big things coming! More chapters soon! ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of being in Raccoon City! Don't know how many parts the Raccoon City portion of the fic will be, but it's at least one more, probably 2! Hope you are all enjoying!

Carlos had indeed saved you, for the time being at least; leading you both down into the subway tunnels where they’d been bringing civilians.

“You’re in good hands I promise you, we're with the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service, or UBCS for short.” No fucking way, seriously? 

Jill voices your thoughts, “Are you _fucking_ kidding me? You guys are the ones who _caused_ all of this!” 

“Whoa whoa whoa, what are you talking about? We’re just here to help people… What’s wrong with Umbrella?” You snort, at least you knew this guy wasn’t high up on Umbrella’s payroll, he probably had no idea what Umbrella was really about. You remembered reading about the UBCS, Umbrella mostly used them like a private militia, they had ‘monitors’ within their group that had Umbrella’s real mission orders; guys like Carlos were meant to be expendable. 

“Oh my god, your company is responsible for _infecting everyone!_ ” Jill was furious, the night had just begun and you were both irritable. 

“Listen, I don’t know anything about that but I’m going to the shelter, you coming or not?” He kicks a door down, clearly not believing you. Before you follow him you grab Jill by the arm, holding her back for a second. 

“Someone in his group is a traitor. Eyes up.” You warn and she nods.

Carlos introduces you to his captain, Mikhail, who explains that the train could take them out of town, but there was no power to the substation, and they needed to perform maintenance. He’d apparently come in with over forty men and now had less than ten, and that with your help he could get the train running again, and you’d agreed to help. He’d also put Carlos in his place a little bit, recognizing you both as STARS, which pleased you, since his incessant flirting was grating on your nerves. 

“Here, we can use this to communicate.” Carlos hands Jill a walkie and you almost roll your eyes. 

“I know what a radio is.” Jill’s voice is curt and you stifle a laugh, she is far kinder than you would have been. 

The streets are hell, there are fires everywhere; including the way you need to go, leaving you the annoying task of figuring out how to put out a damn fire in the middle of a pandemic. The two of you manage to get your hands on a fire hose and are able to put the alley you need to go down out; your task is far from over though, the power had to be restored from the main substation.

On the way there you find an injured UBCS soldier; you were a doctor and medic first, you saw him bleeding and reacted, immediately starting to examine him and tend to his wounds. 

“UBCS? Were you bitten?” You ask, trying to get a better look at his injury.

“Yeah, careful. Don’t look at me like that, I’m not an infected. Wait wait no n-” A gunshot silences him and you are sprayed with his blood. You clench your fists and exhale slowly, if he was bitten there was no chance for his survival but he’d still been your patient, even for just a moment. 

“What the _fuck_?” Jill shouts, giving you a moment.

“He was infected.” The man who shot your patient says nonchalantly, through a thick accent, you turn to look at him, noticing he was UBCS too, clearly marked with their insignia.

“He might have been infected.” You say, trying to keep your voice steady, enraged. Was he the monitor? Or were these the actions of a paranoid soldier? 

“Are all STARS this soft? No wonder so many of you are dead.” He turns away, walking up the stairs. Your arm twitches, first instinct to throw a punch. Maybe you should have shot Brad. Would it have been a more merciful end than succumbing to the virus? To become the very thing that had killed so many of your friends? You think about it for a minute, thoughts fading to the STARS you’d lost: almost all of Bravo team, Joseph, Brad, Wesker… you hadn’t heard from Chris and Barry, they could be dead for all you knew, and you had no idea if you and Jill would make it out of Raccoon City alive.

“And what are you, UBCS? Killing your own people?” Jill’s angry voice pulls you back to reality and you’re almost thankful.

“He would have turned. Where's your sense of self preservation?” He gets in Jill’s face a little but she doesn’t give ground, “Go back to the substation, we don’t need two bleeding hearts like you around getting in the way.” He turned and stalked up the stairs, leaving the two of you alone. You punch a metal cabinet nearby, putting a satisfying dent in it, your hand stinging in pain. 

You continue on to the substation, but as was the trend of the night, nothing was easy. An enormous nest-like structure was growing over the power grid, making you groan internally. Jill almost doubles over from the smell. 

“God that smells like, I don’t even want to think about it.” It’s bad but it doesn’t bother you too much, you’d seen plenty of wounds, death and decay in your time as a doctor, and the smell was similar. Acrid and harsh, like several horrible smells at once; feces, mothballs, spoiled milk and rotten eggs, but you push on. You find a lock pick on the body of a subway worker; Jill works on picking the main lock while you look around the surrounding area, picking up a few herb sprigs, thinking they may come in handy. You hear Jill unlock the door, and you turn to show her some notes you found about the nest above the substation; she turns to face you and that's when you notice the spit-like fluid dripping from above. 

A shadow passes above her, “Jill!” You go to push her out of the way, but it’s too late; a horrible bug creature grabs her by the throat, lifting her off her feet and shoving a tongue-like appendage down her throat. You shoot at it, firing off rounds until it drops her, skittering off into the substation. You rush to Jill, who is doubled over in pain, gripping her stomach.

“Get it _out_.” She moans. Jesus, the bug must have put something in her. You think back to the notes you read, ripping off some leaves from one of the green herbs you’d grabbed.

“Chew and swallow.” She follows your orders and the plant makes her hurl, expelling what looks like maggots from her stomach. You had a pretty strong gut but it’s enough to make your stomach churn, “If one of those things touches me I’ll burn this whole fucking city to the ground!” You shout, as if you were warning the bugs waiting for you inside the station not to mess with you. 

Working as a team you’re able to move through the infested station with relative ease, one of you flipping switches and the other wasting any bugs that come near. It’s disgusting but you get the job done, both delighted to watch the nest fry when the power is flipped back on. All you had to do now was get back to the control station to plug in a route for the train and you could leave the city. 

Nothing was ever easy though, on the way back to the control station the Tyrant beast from before came crashing through a wall, still pursuing the two of you. You both knew you couldn’t fight it now, while Jill had managed to find a shotgun, all you had were pistols; you’d need heavier artillery if you were going to have a chance to take it down. So you ran, using what you could to slow it down as it cried out ‘STARS’ behind you. You manage to hold him off long enough to make it to the control station, Jill hastily plugging a route into the machine, radioing to Carlos that you were on your way back, and that the monster was on your ass.

You both rush back to the subway, anxious to leave the city. You catch your breath in the Moon’s donuts, catching a glimpse of your pursuer outside. It was picking a zombie up by the head, a fleshy mass coming from its hand, wrapping itself around the zombie's skull. When it was done the infected had a strange, legged creature on its head. 

“What's it doing to them?” Jill asks and you shake your head, having no idea. It looked like a parasite of some sort, seeming to use the zombie like a host, but you had no idea what it was for. 

You make it back to the subway entrance, and Carlos meets you at the front.

“Nice job supercops, I’m impressed.” The corner of your mouth twitches into an annoyed half smile, not currently Carlos’s biggest fan. 

“Are we back in business?” Jill interjects.

“Yeah, but we need about thirty to forty minutes to finish maintenance.” You groan internally, wanting to get the hell out of the city. The door opens to the side and Carlos aims his gun, lowering it as Nikolai and another UBCS agent walk in. It is the same man who shot his own squad mate earlier and your fist clenches subconsciously. He talks with Carlos for a moment before noticing you and Jill.

“What are they doing here?” He points at you and Jill, a vein in his forehead bulging. 

“They’re helping get the trains running again.” Carlos responds, trying to de-escalate.

“Bad time to start carrying dead weight, friend. They’re unreliable! Can’t pull the trigger when it counts.” You leaned against the nearby news stand, happy to be off your feet for a moment, and watch as he stalks towards Jill, getting in her face once again. 

“Hey take it easy.” Carlos says, it’s nice of him to defend you; even if you didn’t like him very much. 

“They’ll get you killed.” Nikolai says as he stalks off, the other UBCS member following behind him. You smile to yourself, you’d found your monitor. 

“Sorry, everyones a little worked up.” Says Carlos, trying to defend his squad mate's behavior. 

“There’s no need,” You say, “He’s working for Umbrella. Really working for Umbrella, unlike you. He’s got the real orders. I want to know what they are.” Carlos doesn't respond, unsure what you’re talking about, but Jill understands, remembering the traitor you warned her about earlier.

A crashing sound comes from the substation entrance and your stomach drops; it had to be the Tyrant creature pursuing you. Jill slams the button on the gate and the three of you step under it.

“It’s after us Jill…” Your voice trails off, there were civilians down in the sub cars. You don’t think, you just duck back under the closing gate and Jill follows you. 

“We’ll buy you some time!” She shouts, and the two of you take off down the hall, the monster hot on your heels. It chases you into a dead end room, and you get it to follow you in a circle while Jill gets a vent grate off the wall. You set it ablaze by shooting some incendiary barrels and the two of you scramble into the vent system. 

You come out in the sewers, your radio refusing to work. Navigating the sewers is disgusting, but at least it doesn’t smell as bad as the main substation. You’re thankful the cuts on your legs leftover from the mansion incident were healed as the sewer water soaked through the calves of your pants. 

“Okay I am definitely burning these clothes,” Jill half jokes, making you snort. You slide down a ramp deeper into the sewers, needing a special battery to open the exit door. A distant roar makes you groan.

“You gotta be kidding me.” You say, and out of a sewer pipe slides a slug-like monster with a massive split mouth, something you recognize. 

“Hunter-gammas!” You shout as Jill fires at it, “Failed Umbrella bioweapon, aim for the inside of its mouth, it’s vulnerable!” You’d faced the technically superior Hunter-Betas at the mansion and there were detailed reports on all the Hunter projects in your files. You fire as the creature opens its horrifying mouth and it writhes in pain, slumping to the ground.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Jill asks, looking down at the now dead bioweapon.

“Don’t know, all Hunter-Betas were subject to termination. Let's keep moving.” As luck would have it, Jill finds a grenade launcher in one of the rooms you search, while you discover the reason the Gammas were in the sewers. 

Your eyes skim over the notes of a researcher who is surely dead now, “They were bribing the sewer management…” You trail off, annoyed, “Is everyone in this fucking town bribed?” You toss the papers back on the table and the two of you continue through the sewers, defeating the last of the Hunter-Gammas and finally making it into radio range of Carlos. 

You climb the ladder up from the sewers, glad to see the sky, hopeful you’ll never have to go into a sewer system again. A shadow falls over you, and before you can react a giant hand grabs you by the throat, lifting you up to its eye level; the tyrant stalker, before throwing you across the parking lot you came up in. 

“Shit!” Jill yells, climbing the ladder as it takes a swing at her; she manages to dive towards you, but you’re both on the ground. You’re coughing from being choked and the creature lowers the barrel of a flamethrower at you, groaning ‘STARS.’ You and Jill scramble to get away as the flames lick your heels. 

“It can use weapons?” Shouts Jill as you run, kicking the shutter door of a building closed behind you. 

“It's too smart to be a regular Tyrant!” You shout back, running further into the building as the beast sets it ablaze. The t-virus caused extreme degeneration of the brain tissue, turning anything infected into a mindless creature that lost function until it basically fell apart or mutated. 

The creature chased you upwards into the derelict building, a site scheduled for demolition. You both reach the top and you know it's about to be a showdown. You grab Jill’s forearm firmly, pulling her to look you in the eyes. 

“Are we still a team?” You ask, echoing Brad’s words.

“Always.” She responds, meeting your gaze.

“Then let's get this fucker.” You go to pull away but she holds you there a second longer.

“For Brad.” She says, voice quivering slightly. 

You nod, “For Brad.” 

The two of you jump from the scaffolding you’re perched on, down to the roof. The monster isn’t far behind, pouncing in front of you, roaring ‘STARS’ and sending a blast of flame into the air. You and Jill share a look, nodding to one another before splitting off. There’s enough cover on the roof for you both, even though it is quickly set on fire, and you know that standing close to each other is a mistake. 

“Get the fuel tank!” You shout, and that's what you both aim at. It has to choose which one of you to fire at and while it’s distracted the other shoots at the tanker on its back. It takes a while, it’s almost like the creature is dancing with you, but eventually the tank explodes, sending you flying back into the pile of flaming wood. You struggle to catch your breath, your arm ablaze with a searing pain. You pull yourself to your feet, getting yourself away from the flames. 

The beast attacks Jill with its hands now, taking swings at her as she dodges as gracefully as she can. Up until now you’d been using your regular handgun, now you opt to switch to Wesker’s Samurai Edge; it may be a samurai, but you knew it hit like a mag. You fire three rounds into the creature's back, trying to get it away from Jill; it turns towards you, tentacle appendage raised. Enough of a distraction for Jill to point her grenade launcher at its chest, point blank, and fire, sending it stumbling as she fires another round at it. You fire a few more shots, hoping that it would stay down this time.

Your victory is short-lived as the building starts to collapse around you, the structure was already condemned, the flames and fight finishing it off. Jill runs towards the edge of the roof and you follow, sliding down a steep incline as the building begins to implode, you both crash into a window-washer cart. An explosion knocks one of the cables loose, sending you both plummeting to the ground, the cart almost crushing Jill. 

You lay there for a moment among the glass shards, body screaming in pain, your arm seared from the flames, lungs aching from having the wind knocked out of them so many times.

“Can you please…. Stop…. Throwing us off of buildings....” You are only half joking and Jill laughs, offering you her hand; you take it and she pulls you to your feet. 

After stopping at Kendo’s gun shop you head back to the substation once again. Kendo was an old friend of STARS, and though he hadn’t wanted to come with you to the substation, you hoped he got out of the city another way. 

The creature pursuing you didn’t stay down long, the all too familiar sound of it crashing into the ground causes you and Jill to start running again. 

“I’m getting really fucking sick of this!!” You shout, sprinting down the nearby alley. This time it has a supply case, opening it to reveal a rocket launcher.

“A rocket launcher?! Seriously?” Jill groans and you agree, where was it getting these weapons? 

It chases you back towards the Moon’s donuts, knocking the giant Toy Uncle bobble head free with a missile. You see Carlos and you know you’re almost to the substation, you grit your teeth, ignoring the pain in your body as you run the home stretch. 

“This way!” Carlos shouts, leading you and Jill down an alley, providing covering fire as the Tyrant beast fires missiles down the street at you. A well placed sensor mine sends the monster stumbling to its knees, and Carlos lights up an oil tanker, causing it to explode. You all make it inside, panting, aching, but alive. 

You practically skip down the subway stairs, ready to get the hell out of Raccoon City, you and Jill had earned it; first at Arklay and now at the city itself. You’d both earned some rest. You board the train first, upper lip curling in disgust when you see Nikolai on board, lounging with one leg up on the seat while Mikhail spoke with Carlos and the other UPCS agent outside. Jill hangs back for a moment, speaking with them and leaving you alone with Nikolai.

“So…” You grab one of the rails, slinging your weight to the side, catching yourself as you rotate to the other side, supporting all your weight with your unburned arm, facing him, “They call you a... monitor right? You’re the only one here who isn’t expendable to Umbrella, you have special mission orders.”

He smirks at you, arms folded, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You knew he was lying, but it was fine, you’d get what you needed one way or another.

“It's okay, you can tell me, I won't tell; I don’t care for UBCS anyways. Though, you don’t strike me as the particularly loyal type.... You seem like, more of a ‘Highest Bidder’ kinda guy, based on the way you blew away your squad mate that is.” It’s your turn to get in his face, a little revenge for Jill. You put your boot up in between one of his legs, right next to the knee, knowing your pants reek from your trip into the sewers; you rest your arm on your knee, picking at the dirt under your fingernails, leaning in close enough for it to be uncomfortable for him, “I just want to know what your orders are.” He exhales through his teeth, looking away from you, but before he can answer Captain Mikhail and Jill enter the train. 

You flash him a smile, one you imagine is pretty wolfish, something you’d learned from Wesker, and crash into the opposite seat next to Jill, who informs you Carlos was staying behind to go on a search and rescue mission. The thought of search and rescue reminds you painfully of STARS, the old days at least, when your missions were simple find and save operations. You try not to dwell on it. Part of you wishes you could have stayed to help Carlos with his mission, the STARS part of you, the doctor part of you, the parts that desired to help and save; but the cynical, rational part of you knew that whoever Umbrella wanted saved probably wasn’t worth saving, likely some scientist hellbent on creating Umbrella’s next biggest and baddest. 

Nikolai definitely had information you wanted, you needed to know why Umbrella had deployed UBCS into the city, who they were trying to extract, and who he was double crossing them for. You’d get it one way or another; whether he’d tell you willingly or if you’d have to tear him apart for it. The oath you took as a doctor burns in your mind; Do no harm, and you grit your teeth, your better nature threatening to get in the way. When it came down to it, you hoped you’d be able to do what needed to be done. 


	10. Chapter 10

The subway ride is quiet, Nikolai speaks with Mikhail while you silently bandage the burn on your arm. It’s a decent size but isn’t too severe, it hurts but it will heal; you get it covered with non-stick wound dressings then wrap them with self sticking gauze before moving onto Jill. You normally would have started with her, but your wound is severe enough to need more immediate care, plus you were the only doctor or medical staff on board, so it was important for you to be fit for duty. You were trying to take better care of yourself, especially after your mistreatment of your body after the mansion incident.

She lets you fuss at her, knowing it’s your way of showing you care, as you carefully clean a cut on her forearm with an alcohol pad, it probably needed stitches but you didn’t want to risk putting them in while the train was moving, opting to use some liquid bandaid to keep it sealed tight for now. You wrap it in gauze too, worried about the open skin being exposed to infection. Even though you were leaving Raccoon City, you couldn’t be too sure the t-virus wasn’t lingering around. You sigh and stand, clearing Jill for now, deciding to check the civilian car; part of you didn’t trust UBCS to make sure no one had been bitten or infected, and you also wanted to make sure no one needed immediate medical attention. 

You walk past Nikolai and Mikhail, hearing a small portion of their conversation on your way to the next tram.

“Funny the gate was locked, don’t you think?” You reach for the door handle when the whole train shakes, making you stumble back. Flames erupt in the civilian car, the roof ripped off the top. There stood the Tyrant beast, your nemesis and constant pursuer. It grabs a survivor by the head and a spray of blood jets out from its fingers. You stand there, shocked; if you’d been a second earlier you’d likely be dead too. It killed all those people just to get to you and Jill. You’re angry at yourself, feeling foolish, you should have known it wasn’t dead and would chase the train. 

You hear Jill cry out and run towards you, but Mikhail stops her, “No, they’re gone. Come, this way.” Mikhail directs her towards the next train car, their voices shake you from your thoughts and you run to the back of the train with Jill. Nikolai beats you to the door, locking it behind him. Jill shakes the handle, unable to get it open.

“Nikolai what are you doing?!” Jill pleads with him, knowing he was the team traitor but still desperate.

“It’s not after me.” He says, winking and pointing towards it, walking further into the train. You kick the bottom of the door, angry, and Jill calls out after him, banging on the door. Despite your rage, your curiosity had been piqued, did he know something about the monster chasing you? You were trapped, and the Tyrant beast was advancing on you. Mikhail starts shooting with his handgun and you do the same, knowing it won't stop it but angry enough to try anyway. 

The intestine-like appendage the creature had flies forward, wrapping around Mikhail, who was the closest, and pulls him towards the beast. It’s too late to save him. You notice too late that the spare explosive that had been on the seat to your right was gone, grabbed by the captain out of desperation.

You realize what is happening too late, about to call out to Jill to tell her to hold onto something when you hear Mikhail agonizingly shout, “Get off my train, _shitbird!”_ as the explosive detonates, sending the train off the tracks and knocking you and Jill off your feet. 

You must have blacked out for a moment, because you awaken to Jill shaking you, pleading with you to wake up. The train is in flames around you, knocked onto its side by the explosion and Jill pulls you to your feet. 

“We have to get out of here, come on!” She says, half dragging you away; your head is swimming, the subway tunnels seem to be spinning around you and all you seem to hear is a high-pitched ringing. You follow Jill, both of you limping towards an emergency ladder, climbing up and out back into Raccoon City, you can hear the Tyrant beast roaring in pain far behind you; it was still alive. You make it to a bridge overlooking a river, a small explosion comes from the subway tunnels, making the bridge shake slightly. 

The creature emerges, completely covered in flames; it wails in pain, shrieking as it tries to put out the flames. It plunges into the river, sinking unseen into the depths below. 

“Bitch can’t even swim.” Jill says and you snort, unable to keep yourself from laughing slightly. She radios to Carlos while you lean over the bridge railing, trying to get your bearings. Your head was pounding and you were still dizzy, looking at the water move makes you feel slightly nauseated. You must have hit your head when the train derailed, and you recognized the signs of a concussion. You curse to yourself, just another fucking thing for you to deal with, while Jill explains to Carlos what happens. 

You focus on one spot in the water, trying to stop your head from spinning, but the water begins to bubble, as if boiling. It couldn’t be the Tyrant could it? 

“Jill? We may have a problem…” You barely get the words out before the monster lunges out of the water. You push Jill out of the way in time, both of you scrambling to your feet, running down the bridge. No longer humanoid, the Tyrant creature had mutated into a new beastly form, almost animalistic in nature, it chased you on all fours. Jill dropped some spare metal piping in the way of your path as you two ran.

“Its power regulator must have burnt off! It’s _mutating!”_ You cry out, you don’t have the time to explain to her what you mean. All tyrants were equipped with a special suit that prevented them from mutating; the t-virus was unstable and the tyrants would mutate rapidly without the power regulator suits. The seemingly useless leather fabric the monster was wrapped in wasn't for its modesty, it was meant to keep it from mutating uncontrollably; the fire from the subway must have burnt what was left of it away, explaining its new beastly form. 

The two of you sprint forward, jumping over a gap in the bridge and dodging an impossibly fast strike from the monster. You throw yourselves off the edge of the bridge down into the memorial park below, ankles crying out in pain as you hit the ground harshly. The beast leaps out in front of you, blocking the way forward and roars, anything close to humanity lost.

There isn’t much cover in the park, a fountain sits in the center of the circular structure, cars and other debris surround the edges of the area. The statue in the fountain provides a bare amount of cover, but other than that the area is completely open, leaving you and Jill to the creatures mercy. You knew you had to split off from one another, try to take its attention in two separate directions; before you have time to react it lunges at you, claws swiping you off your feet, sending you flying into a metal storage crate several feet behind you. Your vision blurs and your breathing becomes ragged as you try to stand, Jill calling out your name. The monster advances on you and you barely manage to dive out of the way of another swing, Wesker’s pistol in hand. 

You’re seeing double as you fire at the monster, its roars and the ringing in your ears mingling to form a horrible cohesive sound. It barely flinches as the bullets hit its chest, raising its arm to claw at you again. Jill fires off her grenade launcher, trying to get the creature’s attention off you. 

“Over here _shit-stick!”_ She shouts, firing another grenade round into its back. Even against the heavier munitions the monster doesn’t stagger, the new round of mutations it had undergone making it stronger than ever before. Jill’s distraction is enough for you to stagger to your feet, plugging shots into the beast’s back as it turns towards Jill,to try and do some damage. You rush to the nearby police cars, this place previously used as a bastion of some sort; your vision slowly returns to normal, the dizziness lingering, threatening to knock you off your feet. You grit your teeth, determined to survive, and look frantically through the left over supplies. 

There’s plenty of extra ammo, as well as a few of the medicinal green herbs you’d given Jill earlier. You greedily bite off a sprig, chewing it into a paste and swallowing, hoping it will quell the nausea from your concussion. To your surprise you also find a few weapons, a magnum pistol that makes you think of Barry, a pump-action shotgun, a few hand grenades and something that looks like grenade launcher rounds. You grab as much ammo as you could, putting your regular handgun unloaded into your backpack, opting to keep the mag and Wesker Samurai in your holsters for immediate use; you also grab some more herbs to keep for later, they had been surprisingly handy so far. The shotgun has a gun strap and you sling it over your bag, happy to have some more fire power. 

“Jill!” You call out, tossing the grenade rounds her way, they were unlike any grenade launcher rounds you’d seen before, almost looking like sticky bombs, “Catch!” 

The ammo lands at her feet and she scoops it up in her hands, running out of the way of the Tyrant as it tries to land a strike on her. You fire off shots of the mag, hoping the upgraded stopping power of your gun stung the beast a little. The monster roars, climbing onto the buildings and structures nearby, circling you. You stand back to back with Jill, keeping your eyes on the beast as she loads her launcher with the new ammo. It’s impossibly fast, being highly trained in weapons and being a good marksman were barely enough to keep sight of it. It circled you continuously, making your head ache, you were already dizzy enough from being concussed, it was as if the creature knew and was trying to take advantage of the fact.

“What are these?” Jill asks as you grip your head, having to take your eyes off the monster for a second.

“No idea, they look like mines or something, see what happens when you shoot one!” You pull the shotty off your back, loaded and ready to go as Jill fires the first round. You’re both confused as it doesn’t explode; she misses the creature by meters, but the boom never comes. That's when you see it, a small blue light blinking in the distance where she shot. It was a proximity mine. 

Your thoughts are confirmed as the Tyrant runs over it next, the explosion knocks it off its path, back into the park.

_“Now!”_ You shout, and the two of you rush it, guns blazing, firing round after round into the beast’s body. It stays down for a moment, but only briefly, roaring back to life. It tries to pounce on you but you get out of the way just in time, hitting it in the legs with shotgun bullets as Jill fires an incendiary round at it. Angered, it begins circling you again, but for once the two of you feel as though you have the advantage, firing another one of the special mine rounds in the creature’s path, sending it crashing into the rubble below. 

The two of you repeat this process a few more times, the monster getting back up every time. You know Jill is running low on the mine rounds, so you start throwing hand grenades to help the process, somehow able to track the creature's superhuman speed. Your throw is deadly accurate, exploding into the creature's back, and this time when you hit it with your weapons, it doesn’t get back up, for now at least. 

You and Jill don’t stay for long, searching the nearby cars for more supplies before trying to leave the area. You hope the monster was dead, but at this point you knew better, it would get back up and you wanted to be far away when it did. The beast’s body had fallen right in front of the exit to the park, and you both hesitantly step over its extended arm, fearing it’d sense you and wake. There is still a part of you that is fascinated by the creature, tempted to take a moment to get a better look at it, but you push forward, not daring to give in to your curiosity. 

You lean on Jill slightly, concussion starting to get the better of you as the adrenaline from the battle wore off. 

“Easy, I got you.” She says, slinging your arm around her shoulders. You were thankful, deciding to get her something nice if you both survived this. The moment of kindness between the two of you is soured quickly, you hear the rush of footfall too late as Jill is stolen out from under you, trapped in the beast’s bloody claws.

“Jill!!” You scream, mind kicking back into high gear as you nearly fall from her sudden absence. The creature pulls her towards it and you act fast, shooting at the gate above the park entrance. The chain holding it up snaps, dropping the gate faster than the tyrant can react; slicing its arm free of its body. Jill kicks its hand off her, crawling out of its grasp towards you. You help her to her feet, firing shots through the gate, trying to keep the creature at bay. 

The tentacle-like appendage you’d seen so much of grows from where its arm had been, flying through the grate towards the two of you. Instead of impaling you though, it swings away at the last second, going back to the creature as it disappears around the corner. You understand why as your shoulder begins to sting, pain radiating out, threatening to numb your whole body. 

It had shot a spine into your shoulder, a spine carrying the infection, the t-virus. You wrench it out with a cry, cursing to yourself and you hear Jill do the same, she’d been hit by one too, and she falls to the ground, seizing. 

She foams at the mouth, body convulsing as the seizure and infection start to take hold on her, “No no no, Jill.... shit.” Panic bubbles in your throat and you force it back down, you had to move her. You grab underneath her shoulders, pulling her further into the tunnel by her armpits, which is easier said than done as she seizes in your hands. You manage to pull her further from the gate, worried that the Tyrant would reappear at any moment. You sit on the ground, putting her head in your lap as her seizure finishes. 

You examine her wound carefully, cleaning the best you can at this angle and wrap it tight to protect it from further exposure. You find the radio Carlos gave her and try to signal him.

“Carlos…? Carlos are you there?” You say weakly into the receiver, not sure if he would respond.

“Jill? Jill is that you? What happened?” You sigh in relief, at least he picked up.

“No, no it's me... The train derailed, we fought the monster off but… Jill and I.... I think we’re infected. We’re by the entrance to the memorial park, if you can get here, we could use the help…” You trail off, exhaustion finally winning over your will. The radio slips from your hand and your head slumps to the side. 

Your body was hurting in ways you’d never experienced before, your muscles crying out in aching pain, sharp pain ringing from cuts and something you suspected was a broken rib, and a dull numbness spread through you as you felt the infection begin to run its course. Your lungs threaten to give out, over exerted from all the running, protesting being slammed into things over and over again; your mind was foggy, the world spinning around you as you drifted to sleep, your concussion perhaps worse than you thought. 

You can’t help but wonder why you haven’t been as severely affected as Jill, you’d both had previous exposure to the virus at the Arklay mansion, but never been infected. What was different between the two of you? Why hadn’t you gone into a seizure or foamed at the mouth like she had? Besides the obvious pain and exhaustion, you felt little effects from the virus, save being able to feel it coursing through your veins currently. 

As you begin to fade to sleep in the alley, your thoughts drift to Wesker; perhaps if you died here you’d get to see him again… It’s this blissful thought that carries your damaged mind into much needed rest, unknowing that it's exposure to his blood that protects you now. Trace amounts of the T-Wesker or Experiment W virus had bonded with your cells, fending off the brunt of the t-virus’s attack on your body; his final gift to you, helping keep you alive as you faced the hells of Raccoon City. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sobs sorry were still in Raccoon City but I think I only need 1 more chapter to finish the events of RE3. It's important to our characters development and also for some future events, so sorry there's been a lack of Wesker everyone! Going forward from Raccoon City I'll be focusing on his relationship with the mc.... and the sex they have LOL   
> Hope you all like it! Ty for sticking with me!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the "graphic depictions of violence tag" for this chapter, just bc there's relatively descriptive details about wounds and wound care!

_You find yourself in a laboratory. It’s one you unfortunately recognize; the lab where you’d fought the first Tyrant in the Spencer mansion, where everything had gone to hell. It was like the events of the struggle there never occurred, papers were laid neatly out on the desks, computers flashing lights as they ran simulations; the control panel that had been sprayed with Wesker’s blood was clean, practically factory new._

_The giant test tube holding the Tyrant was intact, and the beast itself floated lazily inside, locked in an artificial sleep. It is different than the one you’d fought at the mansion; the skin around its mouth pulled back to reveal a set of narrow yellow teeth, its body and muscle mass much larger than its predecessor. You can’t help but reach out to touch the glass, entranced by the monster. It was horrifying, but some part of you finds it strangely captivating; despite its monstrous nature and terrifying power, it was still a marvel of modern medicine and technology. How had Umbrella created such a monster?_

_“Magnificent, isn’t it?” A familiar voice makes you reach for a gun you don’t have, whirling around to face the voice with a gasp._

_“Wesker?” The words are faint on your lips, as if daring yourself to ask the question. It is him, you knew it was. He stood before you, clad in black turtleneck and slacks, wrapped in a lab coat, eyes hidden behind dark shades. You’d never seen him in a lab coat before, it suited him._

_“You really shouldn’t have come back here you know.” He says, chuckling to himself; he starts walking towards you, something about him feels different, almost predatory. You find yourself stepping back instinctively, feeling afraid of him for the first time._

_“You… You betrayed us… Lured us here to die!” Rage, fear and sadness bubble in your chest as hot angry tears begin to fall from your face; you want to get away from him, to scream, to cry and to hit him all at once. Your back hits the Tyrant’s containment unit, nowhere left to go, and he closes the distance between you; grabbing your head by the chin, his slender fingers bracing themselves against your jaw._

_“If only you’d listened to me, you’ve always been so stubborn…” His voice trails off and you can feel his hot breath on your neck; you refuse to look at him, turning your head to the side, doing your best to avoid his eyes, “Offering me your neck, little bird?” He was taunting you, showing him the tender skin on your neck was a sign of weakness, an act of submission; it is one you hadn’t meant to make while trying to avoid his gaze._

_You turn your head back to him, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. A small gasp escapes you as you look at him; he is just as handsome as he was before and the intensity of his stare makes your knees tremble. It is his eyes that catch you off guard, gone are the icy baby blues you’d been so fond of, replaced by fiery orange and red irises with a slim cat eye pupil; you couldn’t see them before, but his sunglasses couldn’t conceal them from you when you were this close to him._

_He leans closer to you, lips brushing against your ear, hand firmly holding your head in place, “Do you like them?” You do your best not to, but you whimper slightly, unsure if you’re in a dream or a nightmare. You don’t answer his question, an act of defiance he won't tolerate. He forces your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, and he pins one of your hands to your side; you’re at his mercy, locked in place by his relentless grasp._

_“Are you afraid of me now, pet? Afraid of what I might do to you?” He thrusts one of his knees between your legs, applying pressure to your thigh; you cry out, tears stinging your eyes as they continue to fall. In one motion he releases you, dropping his hands and stepping back. You sink to the ground, not realizing how much you’d been depending on his strength, almost aching, missing the feeling of his weight against you._

_“Fear not… You and your work are far too valuable to me to risk hurting you now.” He pushes a few buttons on the Tyrant’s control panel, looking smug as you pull your legs close to you, sobbing, “After all… Our little game is just beginning…” He flashes you a smile and everything goes black._

You wake up screaming, firm hands shaking your shoulders. Your eyes fly open to see Carlos, he’d managed to find you after all. You try to shake off the effects of the nightmare, it was one you had often, variations of it anyways.

“C-carlos? You, you found us…” Your words are hazy; sunlight filters into the tunnel, forcing you to squint as the light hurts your eyes and makes your head cry out in pain. How long had you been out here? 

“Of course I did, couldn’t leave my two best girls out here to die.” You blink at him, laughing slightly; you felt bad for your treatment of him before, despite your obvious dislike of him he’d still come back for you and Jill, “Can you stand?” He asks.

You think for a moment, taking mental inventory of your body; to say everything hurt was an understatement. You knew you were concussed, likely had a broken rib, a decent burn on your arm and who knew what else; your muscles ached from exertion, just moving seemed like a challenge, let alone walking. You look down at your shoulder, noticing you’d forgotten to bandage the wound left by the infected spine; the hole was about the size of a dime, and seemed to go down to the bone, it was oozing pus and blood. The blood was caked to your arm, soaking through the bandage over your burn. It was typical of you, you’d taken care of Jill and completely neglected yourself once again. You sigh, it would have to wait. 

“I have a concussion,” You say slowly, finding words difficult, as if you have to chew them before you can say them, “But I think I can walk.” You carefully slide Jill’s head out of your lap, noticing you’ve been sitting in a pool of her blood, it had saturated the hasty bandage you’d put over it the previous night and coated the floor under her, leaving you both with a layer of it on your skin and clothes. 

Carlos carefully helps you to your feet. You grit your teeth as the bricks of the tunnel spin around you, you hold the wall for support, leaning on it heavily. 

“Jill and I are… Infected…” You groan out, your body wracked with pain; you try to get your eyes to focus on something to stop the dizziness but everything is spinning too fast. You’re about to fall when Carlos puts his hand on your uninjured shoulder, steadying you.

“Tyrell and I were sent to rescue a man named Dr. Bard, he was working on a vaccine for the virus. He’s at the Spencer Memorial Hospital, I’m going to take you two there, and he can help us.” You nod, barely able to keep up with what he’s saying. He radios to Tyrell, telling him to meet you at the hospital. He lifts Jill onto his back, she hasn’t woken up yet and wasn’t showing signs of stirring any time soon. You hold onto a strap on his back, trying your best not to lean on him, not wanting to burden him with more weight; you carefully hold the barrel of your shotgun, using it like a walking stick to support yourself.

The journey is slow, but the hospital isn’t too far away and you make it there without attracting too much attention to yourselves. Surprisingly, the front entrance to the hospital is clear of undead, and you’re able to duck into a triage room with a few patient beds. Carlos lays Jill on one of them, she’s sleeping but it’s clear it isn’t peaceful; sweat beads on her forehead and her brow is knitted in pain. You know she has a fever but you want to take her vitals anyways, searching the room for a thermometer and blood pressure cuff. 

You move with determination but your body betrays you, stumbling and falling towards her bed; Carlos is careful to catch you by the uninjured arm, other hand catching your waist, preventing you from hitting the floor.

“Whoa whoa whoa, take it easy.” You steady yourself for a moment before pulling away from him. 

“I have… I have to take her vitals and clean her wounds.” Carlos looks at you like you’re crazy, you certainly must look that way, covered in blood, battered and bruised, “I can’t, I-I can’t lose her, she-she’s like my sister…” Your voice cracks as the tears overwhelm you; you grip the edge of the bed tightly for support, knuckles turning white.

Carlos nods, understanding how much Jill meant to you, and how much the situation was taking its toll, “Okay, okay, let’s clean her up, but then we gotta take care of you, wildcat.” His voice is soft, like talking to a wounded animal, your eyes fly up to him; only Wesker had ever called you names like that. You shake the feeling of his ghost away and limp to the sink, washing your hands up to the wrist; your whole arm is covered in grime, blood and pus, but you’d get the rest afterwards, wanting to treat Jill sooner rather than later.

You take a stethoscope out of your backpack, donning a pair of gloves from a box on the wall. You get to work, momentarily forgetting your own pain, tending to her. Her fever is what you expected it to be, over one hundred, her heart rate is accelerated and her blood pressure is high. You were in a hospital so if you wanted you could likely find medication for her, but you knew from first hand experience that nothing would bring down the fever. You remove her old bloodied bandages, cleaning her infected wound the best you could before rewrapping it in new clean ones. Carlos helps you the whole time, handing you things when you need them, opening packages when your hands shake too much. 

You also decide to clean her as well as you could, giving her a bachelorette’s shower with a damp washcloth you’d found in the room. There were plenty of linens, so you soak another hand towel in cold water and drape it over her forehead, hoping to help cool her body down from the fever. 

You slump into a nearby chair, having declared Jill clear for now. You use a wet wash rag to start cleaning the scum off your arms, happy to be a little cleaner. You assess your own own wounds, carefully rebandaging your burn before moving onto the hole in your shoulder. It isn’t as deep as you’d thought, having barely scraped the bone, but luckily isn’t anywhere near an artery. You grit your teeth as you move the skin around it to get a better look inside it, holding in a groan. Carlos tries to stop you but you swat his hand away; you could feel something inside the wound, you needed to see what it was.

You swear when you see it, broken off near the bottom was what seemed to be a barb or hook shape; it was latched into the flesh there, likely getting stuck and breaking off the main spine when you’d ripped it out. You pull a pair of tweezers out of your pocket, thankful that you normally kept nice ones on you for exactly this reason; they really should be sterilized, but the wound is already infected, you’re in the middle of an outbreak and at this point you really don’t give a damn. 

“I need your help.” You sigh to Carlos, who has been watching you with horror.

“Yeah, uh sure, what do you need?” He’s clearly uncomfortable, but is still willing to help, you’re appreciative, thankful he’d come to help you and Jill.

“I need you to hold my arm still, and pinch the skin here like this, okay? Put some gloves on.” He does what you tell him, using the weight of his arm to pin your arm down and using his hands to carefully pinch the skin around the hole to give you the best angle to get the barb. He looks grossed out, but doesn’t seem to want to look away.

“It’s just a simple game of operation, okay?” You try to reassure him, even though it’s about to be you in pain. You carefully poke the tweezers into the wound, careful not to touch the exposed skin on the sides or the small bit of bone at the bottom. You’re able to pinch the barb between the pincers, pulling the hooked end out the opposite way it was latched in. It hurts for a moment, but you feel instant relief as the barb is free from your skin, and you pull it out. You sigh in satisfaction, thanking Carlos for his help and discarding the broken piece of the spine. You wash your tweezers and finish taking care of yourself, finding some wet-to-dry wound gauze in one of the drawers, filling the hole and bandaging it shut. It wasn’t ideal but it would work for now. 

“What now?” You ask Carlos, giving yourself the all clear.

“No no no, you’re staying here. I’m going to go find Dr. Bard and the Vaccine. Tyrell should be here soon, you need to rest.”

You were angry, refusing to be coddled, “And you don’t? When was the last time you slept? I know more about vaccines and Umbrella than anyone, I need to see this guy and his work!” You pointed a finger at his chest, mind painfully flashing back to the last time someone tried to keep you from going on a mission.

“Yeah, you do know more about Umbrella than anyone, that’s why you need to survive and get the hell out of here! You’re not doing anybody any favors by trying to rush in and die!” You blink at him, caught completely off guard by his words. You… You weren’t trying to die… Were you? This doctor was important enough for Umbrella to send in an extraction team, clearly his work must be important then, you needed to see it. 

Your breathing is shaky, “I’m… I’m not hellbent on dying, okay? Umbrella took so much from me…” You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes, Albert’s face fresh in your mind after your nightmare, “If this doctor really did make a vaccine I need to see his work. I-I’ll play it safe, you can take point.” He looks at you carefully, unsure what to make of you. 

“Fine, but if I see you limping I’m dragging you back here.” You nod, you were feeling a bit better now that you were clean, your muscles warming up to the activity you were subjecting them too. 

The way to Dr. Bard’s area of the hospital was full of undead, you almost regret your decision to go with Carlos to rescue him, but it had to be done. The pain in your body dulls a little as you move through the hospital, getting used to the movement once again, adrenaline coursing through you as you fight your way to the doctor’s office. 

You’re nearing the entrance to the Virology unit when you notice a soft growl-like, clicking sound, a sound that you recognize almost too late. Carlos is about to round the corner when you grab him by the arm.

“Wait!” You whisper, pulling him back towards you. Before he can protest you grab a soda can off a meal cart, moving as quietly as you can you carefully roll it down the hallway. A screeching roar echoes from around the corner as a flash of green claws pierces the can and you and Carlos open fire.

“What the hell is that?” He shouts, unloading his assault rifle into the reptilian monster. 

“Hunter-Beta!” You shout back, firing off mag bullets into its skull, before long the creature is dead, slumping to the floor, “Umbrella must have let them loose in the city to collect test data. Fuckers… I’ve dealt with them before.” 

After jerry-rigging a tape recorder to play for the voice detecting door, you finally gain access to Dr. Bard's office. It’s eerily quiet and the doctor sits silently in an office chair, not turning when you come in the room. It’s not a good sign. 

“Dr. Bard?” Carlos asks, turning the chair around to reveal the doctor, dead to a gunshot in the head. 

“Damn it.” You swear, “Who the hell would have shot him?” You think briefly to Nikolai, who surely hadn’t survived the crash. 

“I’ll look around for the vaccine, see what you can find around here.” Carlos says, heading to the opposite side of the room. You sit down at Dr. Bard’s computer, watching a brief video that he recorded before his murder; you scoff, so the good doctor had tried to ‘restore honor’ to his name. Funny how the guilt weighed on him then, so close to death, and not any of the times he’d been jeopardizing human lives or running human experiments, only when faced with his own mortality did he repent. 

You click past the video, anxious to access the rest of the files on his computer; you grab your dog tags from around your neck, pulling them off. You had three, two were your own, you didn’t keep with the military's tradition of keeping one in your shoe, opting to keep them both on your chain, and the third was one Kendo had helped you create. Since you’d been unable to get ahold of one of the real ones back at the mansion, Kendo helped you create a replica; the name Albert Wesker inscribed on the tag, along with his old ID number. He’d never taken the dog tags off, so you knew the number by heart.

Only this tag was special, you carefully pull it apart at an almost invisible seam in the middle and it springs open, revealing a thumb drive. You smile to yourself, pleased with your own invention, and plug it into the computer, downloading everything you can. While the files download you look through the papers on the late doctor’s desk, picking up what seems to be an unsent letter to a colleague. The paper congratulates a coworker at Umbrella Europe on the success of the ‘Nemesis’ project. That had to be the same project Chris and Barry were looking into. 

Your brow furrows as you turn your attention back to the computer, download finished. You pull your dog tag out, squeezing the middle section to collapse the thumb drive, and slide the other half of the tag over it. You sling the chain back over your neck, latching it into place as you look through the computer files one more time, looking for anything to do with the Nemesis project. There’s surprisingly little on his computer, but you do find one report; looking over it greedily. 

“So it is a Tyrant…” You muse to yourself; your nemesis, the Nemesis was a Tyrant experiment run by Umbrella Europe. To combat the deterioration of the brain that the t-virus caused, they created a parasite capable of acting as the creature’s brain; that’s why it was able to use weapons and track them ruthlessly, it was all it knew. 

Carlos reenters the room, two purple vials in hand. 

“Is that it?” You ask, anxious; not realizing how much your life depended on this vaccine. 

“Sure did, one for you and one for Jill.” He hands you one of the samples; it is already equipped with its own syringe. You uncap it and sink the needle into your arm, plunging the medicine into your body, hissing slightly, it stings quite a bit. 

“Let's get back to Jill.” You say, discarding the empty syringe. 

Jill is right where you left her, struggling to fight off the virus in the triage room. You administer the vaccine as quickly as you can, not even noticing that Tyrell is there. The small tv set is on, broadcasting an emergency news cast to the city, you barely hear it or the two UBCS members talking, studying Jill’s face to see if the vaccine had any immediate effect on her. 

“Hey, you hear that? They’re going to blow the city sky high.” Carlos’s voice breaks your focus, you turn, staring blankly at him.

“Wh-What? They can’t do that! There’s, there’s still people here… _survivors_ … We have a _vaccine.”_ Your voice cracks, the stress catching up to you. It was just like the government to do this, you knew they were involved with Umbrella; they probably wanted all evidence of their wrongdoings destroyed with the city. 

“Tyrell is going to see if he can get a hold of anyone topside, see if he can get them to call off the missile strike. Do you think there’s more vaccine samples anywhere?” Carlos asks; you rub your finger along your jaw, thinking of what you saw on the computer.

You nod, “Under the hospital is another facility, Bard said he stockpiled the vaccine there.” 

“Then let’s not waste any more time.” You and Carlos head out of the room, leaving Tyrell to watch over Jill and stop the missile strike. 

It takes you a while to find the entrance to the facility, it was well hidden so that normal hospital workers wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it, and the way there is riddled with Hunter-betas and infected civilians. It takes you a few hours to find it, but eventually you stand on the elevator headed down. The facility itself is overrun with the undead, and you shiver as you’re reminded of how you considered taking a position at the hospital. 

You take a small lift up to a computer room, where Carlos leaves you, going to search for the vaccine while you look through information on the computers; promising to call him on the radio if you found anything helpful. You plug your thumb drive into one of the, sitting down for the long haul, expecting to be there for a while. It was up to Carlos to find the vaccine now, you were grateful for the time to rest and look through the computers. 

You download a countless amount of files, more of the information that you’d been unable to take with you from Arklay. You look through information mindlessly, absorbing what you could. Apparently this facility was one of two under Raccoon City; neighboring another primary laboratory. This one was mostly used for testing, bioweapons were created at NEST One, then brought here to NEST Two for data collection. There was apparently a huge arena on a level below you used for almost Roman style combat between bioweapons, win or lose the combatants would be liquefied with a highly corrosive acid; as well as several testing floors designed to look like other parts of Raccoon City in order to confuse the human test subjects. 

It makes your blood boil just thinking about it, all the missing persons cases left cold at RPD, victims of Umbrella’s testing. How could you have possibly missed the location of their main lab when selecting files at the Arklay mansion? You would have gotten the hell out of Raccoon City if you’d known, you certainly wouldn’t have waited for this outbreak to happen like you did. You curse quietly to yourself, continuing to investigate the computers.

You come across what seems to be a log of the past few days:

_9/26_

  1. _Infiltrated RC. Disturbances are sporadic. Commencing mission._
  2. _Observed 5 R.P.D officers engaging a pack of 20 strong. Officers annihilated in 20 minutes._



You scroll down further, your heart stopping when the log mentions you and your fellow STARS members, using your respective initials. Someone had been watching you, watching you closely; had Nikolai really survived the train crash? It had to be him.

_9/30_

  1. _Over 17 hours have elapsed since exposure to virus. Conversion has been slow, suggestion JV may be resistant. The other STARS female shows no symptoms._



  1. _Vaccine recovered and administered to STARS by CO, a soldier in MV platoon. JV expected to be fit for combat approx. 20 hours post exposure._ _It seems clear the bioweapon is Project N. Contact with STARS causes it to change and evolve. Will induce further encounters to obtain more precise data._



Those words make your stomach drop, ‘induce further encounters,’ that meant Nemesis was still alive, hellbent on killing you and Jill. You grab your thumb drive, slipping the dog tags back around your neck, done with the computers for now. It was time for you to reunite with Carlos, you’d been looking through the computers for a few hours now. 

Before you can turn and leave you hear the soft sound of a pistol safety click behind you as the cold metal of the gun presses into the back of your head.

“You really should pay more attention, zombies can’t operate elevators.” The voice is thickly accented; Nikolai. You’d been so focused on the computers you hadn’t heard the lift, “Put your hands up and turn around.” You comply, cursing yourself for not paying more attention. You glare at him, wishing you could burn a hole in his smug face.

“It’s your lucky day, my employer is willing to pay a lot of money to get you out of the city.” Your thoughts begin to race. Umbrella? You’d be better off dead to Umbrella, they’d sent in Nemesis to kill you for that very reason; he really was betraying them. 

“Who's your employer?” You ask, voice shaking. Who could possibly want to buy your way out of the city, and why? 

“That’s none of your concern right now, though, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” His voice grates on your nerves and you grit your teeth, trying to figure out a plan. 

He cocks his gun to the side slightly, “So here’s how this is going to work-” You realize that he doesn’t want to kill you, that he wants you alive; the gun was just to keep you in line. Before he can finish his sentence you hit his arm at the wrist with enough force to send the gun flying out of his hand. 

He swears in Russian, turning to face you; you’re already on him though, throwing a punch that hits his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He grunts, arm coming up to block your attacks; he’s strong, something about fighting with him almost reminds you of Wesker. You falter for a moment, thoughts becoming overwhelming, and he takes advantage of your moment of weakness; his fist connecting with your already weakened ribs. You feel another one snap and you cry out in agony, almost doubling over in pain as his knuckles slam into your nose. You take a step away from him, reeling; the added trauma to your head not doing your concussion any favors as blood from your nose begins to pour down your face. 

He advances on you and you put your arms up into a fighting stance; before he can get too close you swing at him wildly. He uses your momentum against you, grabbing your arm and turning you until your back is pressed against him, locked in a headlock. You struggle to wrench your arm free from his grasp, but his hold on you is firm. You can’t breathe, your blood spills onto his arm as he chokes you, free hand clawing at his forearm, trying to relieve the pressure on your windpipe. 

“No wonder so many of you are dead…” He taunts, laughing softly to himself as you begin to lose consciousness.

“Fight me… When I don’t… Have a concussion… You _asshole…”_ You sputter out, spit and blood flying from your lips as the world goes dark around you.

When you wake up you’re on the floor, hands zip tied behind your back and legs tied at the ankles. You struggle to sit up, finding it difficult to do with at least two broken ribs and your hands bound. Nikolai stands over a computer console that’s safely tucked behind a thick glass panel, carefully watching something play out below. You hear gunfire and the sound of what can only be Nemesis roaring, and you groan. 

“You… You gotta let me help her.” You strain to get the words out, how long had you been unconscious? 

“I don’t have to do anything. You’re going to sit there and wait until it’s time to get on the chopper.” He laughs, amused by your request. You struggle against your bindings, twisting your wrists in opposite directions, weakening the zip ties. 

“She can’t beat him alone… We can’t leave the city until it’s dead… It’ll keep chasing me.” The zip ties around your wrists snap, leaving a dull ache in your bones, and you move to get the ones on your ankles. If he hears you free yourself he gives no indication. You manage to stand, your vision swimming once again as the effects of your concussion fight you. He hadn’t taken your weapons, either thinking you’d be unconscious for longer or that the zip ties would hold you. 

You stagger over to him, using your shotgun as a walking stick once again; you stand beside him. He blows air out through his teeth, clearly displeased with you, but knows you’re right. 

“After it's dead… If you tell me who your employer is, there’s a seat for you on that chopper.” You say, “All life is valuable to me, even a piece of shit like you.” You turn to leave, hearing him mutter, “Kill it then.” under his breath as you run out of the room. 

It takes you a few agonizing minutes to get down to the arena, fighting off infected as you make your way down. You make it to an open space above the arena, watching as Nemesis pounces at Jill; you want to call out to her, to let her know you’re coming to help, but you don’t dare distract her as she fights for her life. 

You find an emergency ladder down into the arena and you half climb, half slide down it; your feet hitting the floor, which is covered in a meaty sludge. This was definitely the arena you’d read about, the bloodied pools of slime confirm it. 

_“Hey asshole!”_ You shout, your magnum in hand; you fire bullets off at it, one catching it squarely in the jaw as it turns to look at you. Jill’s eyes light up with excitement when she sees you; invigorated by your return she aims her grenade launcher at its chest, incendiary rounds lighting it ablaze. Nemesis roars out in pain, shaking its beastly head and climbing onto the walls. It begins to circle you like it did at the memorial park, but this time you’re out of mine rounds, and you doubt your ability to hit another grenade throw with your new injuries. 

“Let me spot for you!” A familiar voice rings out over the intercom, it’s Carlos; up in one of the observation decks. 

The creature runs across the tankards and electrical equipment at lightning speed; your head throbs, you can’t keep looking at it, wrenching your eyes away from it. 

“Behind number four!” Calls out Carlos; Nemesis had been attempting to hide behind the electrical equipment there, hoping to pounce on you. You and Jill fire at the buttons along the side of the tank, causing it to spark as it sends a pulse of electricity through Nemesis. It roars, falling to the ground, and the two of you take advantage of the moment, hitting it with as much fire power as you can. Just like in the park this process repeats a few more times until Nemesis gives up on circling you. It stands in front of you now, its breathing ragged as it lifts a clawed hand to strike.

“Lookout!” Carlos yells, as an enormous piece of equipment smashes into the creatures jaw, sending it flying backwards, finally lying still, “Grab on! I’m going to melt this fucker into mush!” You and Jill limp to what seems like a crane arm, grabbing hold of metal handrails as acid begins to fill the arena. The hissing sound of flesh and corrosive is almost pleasant to your ears as Nemesis begins to disintegrate, becoming nothing but a pool of blood. 

You and Jill lean on one another, stepping off the crane onto solid ground.

“We have to get to Nikolai, he has the vaccine.” You tilt your head to the side, confused.

“There’s only one?” You ask, Bard said he’d stockpiled the vaccine, and Jill nods.

“I had to make it myself.” 

The two of you push on, opening a door onto a walkway above a sprawling open room. You both see Nikolai at the same time, pulling your guns as he pulls his. 

“It’s done. Give me the vaccine, you greedy son of a bitch.” Jill thrusts her gun forward, tired of dealing with the events of the past few days.

“Oh no no no, you two print money, and I _like_ money.” He’s interrupted by a thunderous crashing sound as the wall rips open between you, sending you and Jill falling into the room below. A horrible slug-like monster slips out of the hole in the wall, sliding into the room; it’s what’s left of Nemesis, mutated into an even uglier new form. The top of it opens up and anchor points shoot out of the top, securing the beast to the room. It unfolds like some sort of grotesque flower, revealing its horrible maw and screeching at you.   
“You have got to be kidding me.” You mutter to yourself as Nikolai laughs on the balcony.

“Have you… Have you ever seen something so incredible! The data on this would be worth _millions…”_ His accent puts a unique emphasis on the word millions, “But, ah, you know how it is! City’s about to explode, and you can’t put a price on life! Good luck!” It almost seems like he’s genuinely wishing you good luck as he laughs and runs across the balcony to the door.

“Nikolai!” Jill cries out after him, still desperate to get the vaccine. 

“Jill!” It’s Carlos, on a walkway higher up than the one you’d been on.

“Go after Nikolai! He’s got the vaccine!” She shouts, grabbing her grenade launcher.

Carlos hesitates, “What about you two?”

“We’re running out of time!” You stood by Jill’s side, Wesker Samurai Edge ready, “We got this, go!” You yell, turning to face your Nemesis for the last time as Carlos hunts down Nikolai. You both fire at it as it sprays acid down at you, its cells mutating to adapt to the acid instead of die to it. Jill runs behind you, grabbing some sort of machinery, aiming it at the beast. It charges, seeming to shake the whole room before firing a bolt of pure blue electricity straight through the monster. The recoil almost knocks Jill off her feet, but she’s rewarded as there is a crater in Nemesis’s flesh.

You stare at her, dumbfounded for a second before a giddy excitement overtakes you, “I get to shoot it next!” 

“It needs more power!” Jill yells, putting the laser gun back on its charging unit as circular battery-like cylinders extend from the wall trying to recharge the gun. Some of them get stuck, the acid causing enough damage to them to prevent them from plugging themselves back in. 

You point towards the right, “I got this side!” You both take off in opposite directions, dodging blobs of acid and what was left of the beast’s giant claws; managing to get the remaining batteries plugged back in. You sprint back to the gun, grabbing it off its shelving and pointing it towards Nemesis. It’s much heavier than you’re expecting, and you almost drop it.

“It’s my turn!” You roar, firing the beam straight into its chest, knocking you back. The beast whines in pain, its massive head hitting the ground, and for a moment you almost feel sympathetic towards it. Jill helps you lift the gun as the two of you advance on it, shoving the muzzle in its mouth. 

“Next time! Take the fucking _HINT!”_ Jill yells and you pull the trigger. Nemesis explodes around you, knocking you back as the force of his blood hits the two of you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet and into the sludge. 

You start to laugh, for a moment not caring that you’re laying in a horrible puddle of infected tyrant blood. It was dead, really dead this time; your Nemesis was in pieces around you. It wasn’t getting back up this time. 

Jill pulls you to your feet, “Come on, we have to find Nikolai.” 

“He’s going to the roof, he’s got a helicopter to take him out of the city.” The two of you find a way out of the room, managing to find an elevator up to the top of the building. After being underground in NEST Two for at least a day, you’re happier than ever to see the sky and feel the breeze on your skin. This nightmare was almost over. 

That's when you see Carlos, unconscious on the floor of the helipad. You both rush to him and you check for a pulse, relieved when you find one. You hear the rush of footsteps too late as Nikolai kicks Jill in the gut, knocking her gun out of her hand. He keeps his gun trained on Jill and grabs you by the back of the head, dragging you backwards by your hair and making you see stars from the pain. 

“You’re not going to stop me.” He pauses, releasing you for a moment to wag the vaccine in front of her, “I promised you this didn’t I?” He tosses the vial to the ground, but before she can grab it he shoots it, destroying the vaccine. 

“No!” She cries out, all hope for the city lost, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” 

You move to reach for your gun but the cold steel of his weapon presses to the back of your head, and you go still, swearing under your breath.

“Don’t know, don’t care. My client ordered me to reduce Umbrella to rubble, and-” He grabs your arm and wrenches you up to your feet, “To get this one out of the city alive.” 

A loud siren plays throughout the city, warning that there were only ten minutes before the missile impact.

“Ah, the missile has launched.” Before he can say anything else he’s knocked off his feet by Carlos, who tackles him to the ground. The two men fight, exchanging punches and blows until Carlos comes out on top, holding Nikolai in a headlock. 

“Jill! Shoot him!” Carlos yells out; though you both have your guns out, you’re thankful it is Jill who pulls the trigger, catching him in the shoulder, knocking both the men back. Jill rushes to check on Carlos, while you stand over Nikolai, who tries to crawl away, bleeding. 

You hold your gun on him, “Why’d you do it?” You ask, not understanding what could possibly be worth all this needless death. He doesn’t answer for a moment, chuckling to himself.

“There’s a price tag for everything, even letting the world burn.” Your next question almost gets caught in your throat. 

“Who are you working for? Tell me now, and you can come with us.” He shakes his head and you hear the helicopter whir to life. 

“I’ll tell you once I’m on it.” You point your gun at him, knowing Jill won't approve. 

“Don’t be a _fool!_ Tell me _who!”_ You’re desperate, you don’t want to leave him to die, despite the hell he put you through. 

“If I die, you’ll never find out the truth!” He says, trying to call your bluff, but you weren’t bluffing. 

You turn towards the chopper, “Then you should have told me when you had the chance.” You climb onboard, voice nearly cracking, and take a seat next to Jill, “We don’t mind a little detective work.” You say, sheathing your gun as the helicopter takes off. 

The three of you flew away from Raccoon City, another nightmare seemingly over. The sun was beginning to rise as the missile flew past your chopper, almost knocking you out of the sky, as Raccoon City explodes behind you. Carlos manages to stabilize the aircraft, as the turbulence fades you hope that this doesn’t become a regular occurrence; a helicopter ride into the sunrise as the remains of a bioweapon outbreak explode behind you. You decide that twice was enough for you. 

Jill holds the broken vaccine vial, upset at your failure to procure the vaccine from the city. You place your hand over her forearm, trying to comfort her. You were both alive and filled with new purpose; you’d already wanted to destroy Umbrella and it had already been personal, but now it was different. Before you’d been avenging the deaths of those close to you, now you felt as though Raccoon City’s ghosts weighed on your shoulders, begging you to bring their killers to their knees. You may not have saved the vaccine, but you swore to recreate it; Dr. Bard’s research hung around your neck, and the proof was in your veins. 

Thoughts nag at the back of your mind, preventing you from sleeping as you fly away from the city. What other organizations were out there? There was at least one, the one that was bribing Nikolai, but were there more than that? How far did Umbrella’s bioterror exploits go? Even if you took down Umbrella, would there be other companies to take its place? 

It’s this last question that haunts you, but you’d have your answer soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is extra long because I was sick of being in Raccoon City and didn't want to break it into two more chapters. Finally we can move on!! Despite being long I hope it was still interesting to read about, even though it was mostly a rehash of RE3.... What happens to our main character here is important to the story going forward so thank you for baring with me!! big kisses


	12. Chapter 12

December 1998

The months following Raccoon City are chaotic; you, Jill and Carlos were immediately taken into US custody, along with a few other survivors. You get to know Leon and Claire, as well as another group of survivors; including a doctor who’d managed to create an alternate t-virus treatment. Despite your own failure to get the vaccine out of the city, there was still a treatment available; Daylight, as it was called, was more difficult to produce, but was effective as a t-virus treatment. 

Claire you knew as Chris’s sister, though it’d been a few years since she’d come by the station. She came to Raccoon City looking for her brother and you were supposed to show her the letter he’d “left” at his locker to throw her off his trail; anyone close to STARS was in danger from Umbrella, and Chris didn’t want to risk getting Claire in any trouble. Despite this she’d still ended up in the Raccoon City outbreak.

Leon’s name you recognized, he was about to start at the police station as the new rookie; you remembered Brad telling you about the incoming newbies. The US Government scouted him for a position in one of their organizations, and you were thankful they didn’t ask or force you to join one. You didn’t trust the government, you knew of their involvement in Umbrella’s affairs, you just couldn’t prove it yet. 

As soon as you’re recovered enough, it takes six weeks for your ribs to heal, you leave for Europe to meet with Chris. You’re anxious to track down any leads you may find on the Nemesis project, afraid the team that created the first one may have been successful in creating more. Jill stays behind in the US, Barry had returned briefly to help rescue people during the outbreak, and the two of them decided to set up a base of operations for you and Chris to report too. 

You’d been in Europe for almost two months now and had nothing to show for it. After Raccoon City, Umbrella went completely off the radar, trying to hide any and all of their work across the world. You’d hit a complete dead end until you received an email from Leon about Claire. She’d apparently been captured by Umbrella and taken to an Island facility that was currently suffering an outbreak. She hadn’t been able to reach her brother, so she’d messaged Leon for help, hoping he could help, or send Chris to her rescue. 

Leon was recovering from exposure to another bioweapon, and you and Chris were more than happy to take on the job. With Leon’s help and contacts you were able to arrange for transport to Rockfort Island, where Claire was allegedly being held. 

The island is a mess when you arrive, some sort of self-destruct sequence had seemingly taken out the main buildings, and the two of you were forced to scale the side of a rocky wall to gain access to the island. The t-virus was definitely on the loose, the air reeked of death and infection, a smell you knew all too well. The wall you’d climbed had left you in a cave system of some sort, definitely not man made. 

“Chris, something big made these tunnels, eyes up.” You warn him; it was nice working with Chris again, reminiscent of the old STARS days. He nods, heading further into the strange tunnel system. You examine the walls, trying to see if you can figure anything out about what made them. A slick gel coats portions of the ceiling and sides of the tunnels, you don’t risk touching it. Had the t-virus infected a worm of some kind? 

Ahead of you sits a man on the floor, clearly injured; Chris interrogates him, trying to find out what happened to his sister. You catch up with him, looking after the man, slightly annoyed that Chris had gone straight to interrogating instead of seeing if he was okay. 

“I’m a doctor, what did this to you?” You interrupt, not caring about what they’d been talking about, only interested in treating his wounds. 

The man groans and Chris looks around the cave, “Gunshot, some sort of special forces team came through the island…” He wasn’t infected then, you kept a few doses of Daylight with you in case you came across infected survivors, but you wouldn’t need it yet. You were amazed he hadn’t bled out by now, moving his hand out of the way to get a closer look at the bullet wound. Before he can protest or you can treat him, the tunnel begins to shake around you; whatever had made the holes was coming back. 

A horrific shriek comes from around the corner, and the head of a mutated slug creature emerges. Its mouth splits open in several directions, revealing rows of sharp teeth. You pull out your gun, the magnum that had done you so many favors in Raccoon City, and fire a few shots at the worm. The man next to you goes to stand and you move to help him, but before you can the worm’s jaws wrap around him, grabbing him in it’s awful mouth and disappearing into a freshly dug hole beneath him. He’s gone. 

“Jesus _CHRIST!”_ You yell, now freshly reminded of the hells the t-virus could create, staggering backwards from where he’d been. You nearly bump into Chris, who puts his arm on your shoulder. 

“You okay?” He asks, knowing how fresh Raccoon City was for you; he really did act like a big brother. You nod, shaken but unharmed, “Stay sharp.” He warns you. 

The worm explodes out of a piece of untouched wall, sending dirt and debris flying. You and Chris unload your weapons into it, knowing you can’t proceed further into the island until it was dead. Despite its large size and mutated state, the worm was still soft, and bullets penetrated its skin easily. Before long it lets out another horrifying sound before crashing to the floor, dead. From its monstrous maw comes the prison guard, having not made it far down the creature’s digestive tract. 

You and Chris rush over to him, to see if there’s anything you could do. He lays in a puddle of bile and other digestive sludge, barely breathing, groaning in pain. You search through your bag, grabbing whatever you can to try and stabilize him. 

“Hold on! Don’t give up!” Says Chris, pulling the man’s head into his lap. You pulled out some medicine and gauze, knowing there wasn’t much you could do for him; between the blood loss from the bullet and being partially digested by a giant worm, his odds of living were slim, and while you had medical supplies, you weren’t a walking emergency room.

“Guess… I can see my family again…” He reaches out to Chris, placing something in his hand, “Here, take this…” 

Chris is confused, recognizing the gift as the lighter he’d given his sister years ago, unsure of how the prison guard ended up with it, “What?” 

“She gave it to me… as a token of thanks… for saving her… I won’t need it any… more.” The man goes still in Chris’s hands, head going limp as he dies. Chris sets the man’s body gently down on the floor, palming the lighter in his hand and standing. 

“What is it?” You ask quietly, not understanding the exchange the two shared. 

“It’s the lighter I’d given Claire for her eighteenth birthday… She must have given it to him after he helped her escape…” You put your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly to comfort him.

“Then we know she’s still out there. Let's keep moving.” He nods and the two of you head deeper into the island.

It’s clear that whoever was on the island last had used the self-destruct sequence, most of the main buildings were destroyed, leaving you and Chris to search the ruins for clues about where Claire had gone. One of the buildings is reasonably untouched, and after climbing through worm tunnels and the rubble of collapsed buildings you decide to try there.

There are still a decent amount of undead around, since the self-destruct didn’t destroy the building. You thought it was strange that this particular building had remained untouched, as if the explosion purposefully missed it, or someone had set it to miss this section of the island. The hallway the two of you are exploring splits in two directions, and you agree to split up, deciding you’d cover more ground that way. You were looking for the main control room, and Chris was looking for any sign of Claire or where she may have gone. 

Unbeknownst to you, you were being stalked, hunted. Glowing red eyes watched you over the cameras, biding their time to make a move. 

You followed what you thought were signs towards the control room, but like all Umbrella facilities, this place was a maze, and you found yourself getting lost more than once. The number of infected staff had decreased significantly, leaving you to wander the halls aimlessly, looking for some way to get your bearings. You decide that once you get off this island you’re going to take a tracking class, tired of getting lost in these unbearable facilities. 

You kick open a door, satisfied when it flies backwards off its hinges, at least you still had that going for you. Inside is a small laboratory, books line the shelves, science equipment fills miscellaneous tables and one glorious computer sits at a center desk. It wasn’t the main computer room but at least it was a computer, you might be able to find some information out of it. 

After checking the room for zombies you almost happily sit at the desk, glad to be relieved of your searching duties for a moment. The username and passcode was taped to the inside of the drawer and you’re thankful that Umbrella employees seem to be thematically forgetful. You plug the digits in, pulling one of your knees up to your chest as you search through the computer. 

You frown at the screen; apparently the self destruct sequence had been initiated for this section of the building, but was overridden and cancelled. There was also an airport located here, with an aircraft sitting unattended. Your brows knit together, thoughts forming quickly. Someone wanted you and Chris to come here, and wanted you to chase after Claire; but who? Your eyes go wide; you’d walked right into a trap, with Claire as bait. 

You hear the echo of footsteps behind you, and you know it isn’t Chris, the steps are too light; he had a much heavier gait. Ever since Nikolai snuck up on you in NEST Two you’d been making sure to pay more attention when using computers. You reach for your magnum on the desk, moving to stand in one quick motion. 

“Well what do we have here?” You turn to face an all to familiar voice. It couldn’t be him, Wesker was dead; but there he stood, clad in all black in front of you. You feel the color drain from your face, the specter from your past finally making himself known, no longer just haunting you in your dreams, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” His voice trails away, deep and heady as it always was. 

You take a step back instinctively as he steps towards you, nearly tripping over the office chair, your hands trembling around your gun; you didn’t want to shoot him, but it seemed clear that he was a threat. The scenario is painfully like your nightmares, come to life, “Wh-What can I say… You don’t call, you don’t write…” You try to play it cool but you can’t hide the way your voice shakes. He smirks at you, and you can’t help the desire to run into his arms, to hold him, to breathe in his cologne, to pretend like nothing happened and that he was never gone; that he never betrayed you. 

“I must say, it’s quite a treat finding you here… I knew Chris would come to his sister’s aid, but getting you is a bonus I wasn’t expecting.” You stare at him confused, processing what he said. Your back hits the wall, nowhere else to run; and you pull your gun. In a movement so fast you barely see it, he grabs your wrist, twisting it so you drop the gun; making you breathe out through your teeth in frustration, “There’s no need for that, darling.” 

Anger swells through you, “Don’t call me that. You-You lost that right.” How dare he, he’d died, betrayed your squad, and now wanted to use pet names for you like nothing had happened? 

He looks at you curiously, like a wolf playing with its food. He puts an arm above your head, keeping your wrist pinned to the wall, and leans in. His proximity is almost too much for you, you can feel his warm breath, smell his skin; it makes you ache how much you’ve missed him. You want to sob and hold him, he always knew how to make you feel better; the trauma of the outbreaks you’d witnessed weighed heavily on your mind, and something about his presence makes you almost break.

“Did you miss me?” His question is softer than you expect, but you know he’s still playing games with you. You don’t answer, refusing to meet his eyes, being careful not to show your neck to him. He releases your wrist, gloved hand coming up to grip your jawline gently, forcing your gaze up to meet his. He was wearing sunglasses, you could just barely make out the shape of his intense eyes but you couldn’t see their color; part of you is saddened by this. 

“Did you miss me?” He asks again, not allowing you to dodge the question. You take a deep breath in; you had missed him more than anything. You blink, steadying your eyes as you look into his.

 _“No.”_ You say, lying. You hope he doesn’t notice the quiver in your voice, or the way your heart rate jumps when you speak. He gives you one of his half smiles, caressing the side of your face with his leather gloved hand. It is all you can do not to lean into his touch. 

He steps away from you, laughing as he exits the room, “Don’t worry, we’ll have our fun yet…” 

You sink to the ground after he is gone, not able to stop the tears that escape you; sobbing on the floor. Wesker, the man you cared so deeply for, was alive and well this whole time, the time you thought him dead, the time after you’d held his broken, bloody body in your arms. He’d come back like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t endured hell since his betrayal, like you hadn’t been to his funeral and listened to the lawyer read his will. 

He was back, and it was clear he was planning something, something you’d have to get to the bottom of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wesker time wesker time wesker time wesker time wesker time wesker time FINALLY
> 
> if theres one thing our self insert can do its kick a door down and find a computer....


	13. Chapter 13

It takes you a few minutes to recover, to get your breathing to return to normal and the tears to stop. Wesker was alive, he was here on this island; he’d lured you and Chris here, but why? To kill you? If he wanted you dead he could have killed you already, it didn’t make any sense to you. You shakily stand, trying to remember what you can about the Ashford family and their work on Rockfort Island; surely there had to be something here of value? Something worth attacking the island to retrieve?

You get what information you can from the computer and retrieve your gun; the prison guard had told you that several planes had taken off from the island and you were able to find the coordinates the autopilot took some of them to. You also pinpoint the location of the control room and start to head there, racking your brain for information from your Umbrella files relevant to the situation.

According to the information you’d had, the Ashford family had been working on a virus called the T-Veronica Virus, a separate strain of the t-virus; but as far as Umbrella knew it had killed Alexander Ashford, the family Patriarch, and his daughter Alexia had died shortly after that. It seemed like research on T-Veronica had stopped with their deaths, but Wesker’s presence and attack on this island made that unlikely. Was he here to retrieve a sample? 

The shrill sound of a woman's laughter rouses you from your thoughts; were there other survivors on the island? You run into the control room, only to find Chris on the floor, seemingly thrown into a glass containment unit.

“Jesus Christ, Chris are you okay?” You rush over to him before kneeling besides him, trying to see if he was bleeding. He waves you off and you help him to his feet.

“Yeah I’m fine.” His breathing is ragged, like he was recovering from being choked, “Wesker… Wesker is still alive.” His voice is angry and your own breath catches in your throat; had Wesker done this to him? You push the thoughts away, not wanting to think about why he hadn’t tried to kill you too, “He’s different now… Stronger… He almost killed me.” 

You swear you feel your heart stop in your chest; he’d tried to kill Chris but not you, “Are you going to be able to walk?” You ask, trying not to think about it, forcing the swell of emotions back down your throat. 

Chris nods, “Just give me a second.” You squeeze his arm, trying to reassure him after his brush with death.

“I know where Claire is, I have the coordinates from her plane. There should be an airport nearby, we can follow her.” There was nothing for you left on Rockfort Island, your only course of action was to find Claire and get the hell out of there. 

After Chris’s breathing returns to normal the two of you head to the aircraft hanger, finding a plane almost waiting for you. It’s a two seater, and you try not to think about what would happen if you had to squeeze Claire in it with you. Chris took the pilot’s seat since you didn’t know how to fly, he’d been one of your back up pilots in STARS after all; and you buckle into the backseat of the jet, trying to keep your thoughts from becoming overwhelming. 

The flight is smooth, but your destination is a few hours away. You aren’t worried about dozing off, you’re too scared too. All you can see behind your eyes is Wesker’s intense stare, even now it felt like he was watching you, hunting you. You shiver at the thought, imagining his piercing gaze, his smug half smile and his leather gloved hand. It’s unbearable. 

“I can’t believe he’s still alive.” Chris thinks out loud and you’re almost thankful for the distraction from your own mind, even though the subject material is the same. 

“Yeah…” You trail off, distracted, “It’s crazy…” You genuinely do not want to participate in this conversation, Chris didn’t know what went on between you two, and you doubt he ever suspected; always too busy getting drunk with Forrest and Joe and playing pranks on everyone to notice. 

“I mean, how did he survive? Didn’t you check for a pulse? The whole place exploded!” Your fist clenches involuntarily, you knew Chris didn’t mean to challenge your capabilities as a doctor, but it was frustrating. You didn’t need this right now. 

“Of course I did.” Your voice is tense, being accidentally curt with him, “We… We had just finished fighting the Tyrant… He didn’t have a pulse…” The memories flood back to you, despite your best efforts, and a wave of harsh emotions floods over you. You bite the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to keep the tears from falling. You didn’t want to cry, not in front of Chris, not like this.

“Didn’t you double check? Maybe you miss-” 

_“Chris!”_ You cut him off, slamming your fist into the metal of the cockpit. You shut your eyes tight, but the first few tears begin to peek through. All you can see is Albert, dead in your arms. Bleeding out in your arms. He was still _alive_ and you’d left him _behind._

“Can we please not talk about this right now?” You beg, still trying to stifle the sobs that were wracking your body. 

He takes a peak behind to look at you, “Whoa are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.” 

You laugh, a short barking sound, “Chris… you are so, fucking dense…” He is silent, not sure how to respond. 

“Wesker and I were _dating_ , Chris, we’d been together for _two_ years when he died.” The words leave your lips and it’s like a weight off your shoulders; none of the remaining STARS members knew about your relationship with the traitorous captain, and you would have preferred to keep it that way. 

“I know that he betrayed us, but I loved him Chris… a piece of me died in that mansion with him, and now... “ You trail off, fully crying now, you try to choose your words carefully but your emotions are raw, “I don’t know how to feel.” 

Chris is quiet, the weight of your words settling over him. You sob softly in the back seat, unable to stop the tears as you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold yourself together.

“Is that why you wanted all of us to go to the funeral?” Your breathing hitches; Wesker’s funeral had been a point of contention between you and Chris. You’d wanted the rest of STARS there to see him buried, even if he was a traitor he’d still been a damn good captain; you’d all respected and learned a lot from him. 

“He deserved a proper funeral, Chris. He was still our captain… I know how much you respected him.” Your voice is soft, your feelings are laid bare on the table, the secret you’d planned on taking to your grave finally out. The funeral had caused a few shouting matches between the two of you in the past, you were afraid with the truth out it would happen again, and you truly couldn’t handle it right now. He’d ended up attending, perhaps out of spite that he’d lived and Wesker had died, but you knew he wasn’t happy about it. 

“I understand now… I’m sorry. You must have been going through so much…” Chris’s tone mirrors your own, words gentle; finally understanding your insistence on honoring a traitor in death. Your heart swells, despite your fights and differences, Chris really was like your brother. You reach out and put your hand on his shoulder, he squeezes it reassuringly. 

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.” You squeeze his hand back, thankful for his company, “Now let’s save Claire, alright?” 

Landing the plane is easier said than done, the landing strip was covered in snow and ice, as well as other planes that hadn’t left the strip; but Chris manages to get you safely on the ground. It is only after you arrive that you realize where you are, the Antarctic; you hadn’t recognized the coordinates until you’d seen the icy tundra. The temperature is well below freezing and the two of you are definitely underdressed. 

“There!” You point, words almost taken by the wind, which chills you to the bone. The landing strip connected to a small airport building, but close to that was a larger building that must be the main facility. You and Chris hustle towards it, knowing you can’t stay out in the Antarctic weather for long. 

You pull open the door, which gives easily, despite the thin layer of ice threatening to freeze it shut; and head inside. The foyer is sickeningly familiar, with marble pillars and ornate staircase centerpiece. Realization hits you; it looks just like the Spencer mansion. You want to vomit, once again you found yourself standing in your nightmares come to life. 

“I think I’d rather freeze to death.” You are only half-joking, face pale. 

Chris doesn’t laugh, patting you on the back instead, “Let’s find Claire.” You nod, wanting to find her and get the hell out of this place. You both draw your guns, walking in an almost mock STARS pattern. There were only two of you, so instead of being next to or behind him, you opted to angle yourself at his diagonal, to cover his flank and his back. You could easily maneuver or switch to back to back if you needed to, and it’s almost comforting how STARS-like the movement feels. 

You find Claire quickly, held to the back of the foyer staircase by some sort of horrible sticky membrane. Chris cuts her down and you start checking her for injuries, relieved when you find none, and no signs of t-virus infection. The two of you pull her to the side of the staircase, setting her gently on the floor until she starts to stir. 

“Chris?” Claire opens her eyes, hugging her brother tightly, “I’ve missed you so much.” You sigh, thankful that she seemed to be okay, hoping you could leave soon.

“I know, but we have to get out of here.” She pulls away from him, shaking her head. 

“Not yet, we have to find Steve.” You groan internally, your normal empathy shaken by the trauma of being back in the Arklay mansion.

“Whose Steve?” You ask.

Claire turns to you, “He’s a boy who escaped that island with me, but then a monster attacked us and we got separated.

“So that means that Steve is still somewhere on this base?” Chris beats you to the question.

“I’m sure of it.” Claire responds, moving to stand; she nearly collapses, grabbing onto Chris for support.

“Claire?” Chris immediately looks concerned, and you start taking her vitals; your initial check on her didn’t reveal anything, but she might be suffering from something unseen.

“I think I’ve been… poisoned.” Her words are agonized, as if the relief of seeing her brother had worn off and the effects of whatever was afflicting her finally caught up. 

“Her heart rate is elevated, Chris.” Her pulse was well over one hundred, and her breathing had become labored.

He nods at you, understanding, “You two stay here, I’ll see what I can find.” 

It takes around half an hour for Chris to return, looking slightly worse for wear than he left, clearly having gotten into a fight with something. In his hands was a medical bag of a serum of some sort, which he hands to you to give to Claire. Luckily you have the supplies you need to get an IV started on her, administering the serum directly into her veins. It takes a few minutes for the bag to fully drain into her, even with you holding it up higher; but eventually the color returns to her face as the poison leaves her body.

“Feeling better?” Asks Chris, worried about his little sister.

“Thanks to you, just like a big brother, huh?” She responds, before being cut off by a sharp, maniacal laugh. 

Your eyes fly upwards to the source, “It’s Alexia!” You recognize her face from reports on the computer as Chris instinctively takes a step in front of his sister.

“Alexia? There really is an Alexia??” Claire asks, clearly shocked; you don’t know why she’d react this way, taking a mental note to ask her about it later. 

Alexia laughs again, “It is almost time you genetically inferior siblings.” Her words are almost funny to you, obviously talking to Claire and Chris; and you have to stop yourself from snorting. She’s on the balcony above you, exiting the room through a door before any of you can even reach the stairs. 

“After her, she might know where Steve is.” Chris says, and Claire runs up the steps before he even has the words out; recovering well from whatever had poisoned her. You follow close behind Chris, taking up the back. 

Before you can reach the door, a horrifying tendril crashes through one of the walls, slamming through the walkway with a tremendous crash. The path crumbles, sending Chris tumbling to the lower floor and launching Claire forward with a scream; if you’d been any closer to Chris you wouldn’t have been able to stop your fall back to the first floor with him, momentarily grateful for taking things slow. 

“What the _hell is that!”_ You shout out, getting a good luck at the worm-like tendril as it disappears back into the wall it came from; it didn’t act like normal t-virus monsters, why had it retreated instead of attacking you? 

Claire stirs from the other side of the now destroyed hall, calling out for her brother. There’s no way for you to get across the gap, it’s too far to try and jump, and there’s no other way across. 

Chris groans on the floor below you, clutching his leg; but a man’s scream diverts your attention. You rush down the stairs to Chris, trying to assess him. 

“Just go!” He shouts at Claire, nearly shoving you off of him, she protests, “You have to save Steve!” She looks torn, but she nods, rushing after Alexia while you look after Chris. 

Miraculously, none of the rubble crushed him during the fall, and while his leg was hurt, the injury was minor. He’s silent while you examine him, the only noise being the slight change of his breathing when you touch something that hurts; you can tell he’s angry.

“She’ll be fine Chris, she’s tough.” Your words are not meant to be reassuring, aiming to snap him out of his mood instead. 

“I should be with her… _Damn it!”_ His fist collides with the floor, his voice terse. You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of footfall and the opening of doors calls you to action. You pull Chris to his feet, his arm slung around your shoulder as the two of you limp to hide behind a marble column. 

Alexia appears at the top of the stairs, looking pleased with herself; had she come back looking for the two of you? She doesn’t get far as the front door flings open, revealing Wesker, wearing all black with his shirt sleeves rolled up, signature sunglasses missing. Seeing him makes your heart ache, why was he here in the Antarctic? Had he followed you and Chris? They stare each other down, but Alexia doesn’t look afraid of him. 

“At last I’ve found you Alexia, come with me.” She cackles, the hysterical, high pitched sound of her laughter echoing around the room, “You’re responsible for the creation of the T-Veronica virus,” He takes a few intimidating steps forward, like a predator stalking his prey, “And now the only existing sample is in your body… I want it.” 

His words send a shiver through your body, you can’t help it; you hope Chris doesn’t notice. You were barely coming to terms that your fallen lover was still alive, and his presence brought strong feelings back to light. 

Alexia laughs again, a sound you’re beginning to grow sick of, “You want it?” The question is almost sultry, “You are not _WORTHY_ of its _POWER.”_ Another shrill laugh, and then it is her turn to advance on Wesker, two predators locked in a battle for dominance. Flames burst from her skin, her clothes melting off of her as she descends the staircase, hair burning and turning to ash at her feet; before veins and plant-like growths erupt from her skin, until she stands in front of Wesker, fully transformed. 

You can’t help the small gasp that comes from you, it’s a truly monstrous transformation but, something about it is strangely beautiful; you find yourself completely captivated by her, so much so that you almost don’t notice Wesker start to take a step back out of fear, losing the battle of wills with her. 

She continues her advance on him, forcing him to give ground until she finally strikes, a backhanded swing that sends him flying backwards. He manages to land on his feet in an almost catlike position, seemingly unharmed. With a graceful step she jumps, practically gliding, and lands behind him; forcing him to roll out of the way. 

“You’re coming with me.” Wesker insists, hell bound to complete his mission and secure a sample. Alexia smiles at him and you’re surprised she doesn’t laugh; it’s as if she doesn’t need too, it is implied. She swings her arm towards him, sending forth a jet of thin liquid that catches fire, once again forcing him to dodge. Wesker dodges with superhuman speed, you’re barely able to keep your eyes on him as he avoids Alexia’s onslaught, running up onto the wall to avoid the flaming liquid she throws towards him. 

You’re in shock, him being fast was one thing, but it would be impossible for a regular person to gain the speed to sprint across the wall the way that he did. What had happened to him? 

He launches himself off the wall, landing a blow onto Alexia that only seems to piss her off. He rolls onto the ground, getting back onto his feet quickly. The next stream of liquid is headed straight for the pillar you and Chris are hiding behind, forcing the two of you to dodge out of the way as well, revealing your position. 

The noise catches Wesker's attention and he looks back at the two of you, briefly shocked. 

“Chris!” Your former captain says your partner’s name but his eyes bore into you as you climb to your feet. 

“Wesker.” Chris’s voice is full of rage, never over the betrayal at the hands of the captain; determined to get his revenge. 

Wesker takes a step towards you but Alexia cuts him off with a row of flames; his arm is set ablaze for a moment before he angrily puts it out. He can’t deal with STARS and Alexia, and you certainly weren’t going to work together. 

“Since STARS is the best, I’ll let you handle this.” Before Alexia can stop him, Wesker bolts out through the door; you swear he flashes you a wolfy smile before he disappears. 

“Wesker’s mine!” You shout, “Can you take her?” You run towards the door, ignoring the flames that lick your heels. 

“Yeah I got this, go!” Chris yells back, heading for the stairs to try and distract Alexia. You fumble with the doorknob, a near fatal mistake as you feel a warm hand grip your shoulder, before you can shove her off of you two fingers pierce your lower back, ripping all the way through to your abdomen, making you scream out in pain. Your vision blurs but you force yourself to stay conscious, elbowing Alexia hard as Chris fires a shot into her shoulder. You wrench the front door open, out into the freezing Antarctic weather. 

You fall to your hands and knees in the snow, ripping your shirt out of where it was tucked into your pants, exposing the wound. It was on the left side of your lower left torso, just slightly above the hip; it was essentially a stab wound but it hurt worse than one, burning like hell on top of that. You touch it out of instinct, covering your hand in your own blood.

“Fuck…” You whisper, was this how you would die? You shakily stand; you had to get to Wesker, you couldn’t let him leave. Not again. 

Luckily the snowfall was light and you were able to track his footsteps back towards the aircraft hanger. You had your Wesker Samurai Edge drawn, trying to ignore the screaming pain from your wound. The hanger is quiet, an almost cliché-like silence, the calm before the storm; but you know that he’s here. 

You explore the hanger, trying to find out where Wesker had gone, until you come across what seems like an aquatic vehicle launching area. Footsteps so soft you almost don’t hear them catch your attention, and you whirl around, gun pointed in their direction. Wesker stands on the other side of the cavernous room, seemingly stalking you. 

You don’t hesitate this time, firing your first shot at him. Your aim is immaculate despite your condition, but you still miss; finally seeing the full scope of his speed, he was able to dodge bullets. Not deterred you fire again, studying his movements the best you could. After two more shots you realize that you need to try and predict where he would be, not where he was. Somehow you were able to keep up with his movements, and after your fifth shot you fire your sixth one differently, scraping him in the shoulder. A small spurt of blood flies out as his shirt tears and he smirks at you, knowing your gun is empty. 

“Very good pet, it’s been a long time since anyone’s almost landed a shot on me.” The distance between you was much closer now, he’d taken advantage of your shooting to gain ground on you. You scramble to reload your gun, trying to put more space in between you but he’s too fast; he grabs your gun hand by the wrist, sending your clip flying out of your hands as he wrenches you towards him. You bring your knee up hard, hoping to catch him anywhere where it will hurt, but he blocks you effortlessly with his other hand. 

“My my, someone’s angry…” His words only enrage you further, the raw emotions from the past few months boiling over as you reach your breaking point. After the hells you’d been through without him, at his hands, how could he be here now, mocking you? Playing with you? 

“Shut! _Up!”_ You snarl, bringing your foot down onto his toes as hard as you could, causing him to release your wrist. You push him away from you the best you can, trying to put distance between him once again. He recovers quickly, cracking his knuckles and smirking at you. 

“I was wondering where that gun went.” His voice is deep and teasing as he advances on you in a motion too fast to react to, slamming his shoulder into you; knocking the wind out of you and sending you flying backwards into a wall. You see stars, vision blurry as you try to climb out of whatever he knocked you into; barely able to roll out of the way as he moves to strike you again.

You know he won't let you reload, so you holster the gun, not wanting to drop it. Your breathing is ragged, you won’t be able to keep this up for long, not with the injury you’d already sustained. 

“It’s not like… I had a purple heart to remember you by…” You spit out blood, breathing heavily. 

“No… I suppose not.” He responds, watching you carefully but not attacking, “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be… I don’t want to hurt you.” His words are tender, voice soft like speaking to a wounded animal, you can feel the hesitation in his voice where he kept himself from using a pet name for you. You’re taken off guard by this, but refuse to back down.

“Are you going to kill me? Like you were going to kill Chris?” You’re angry, you want to say or do anything to hurt him, to make him feel the pain you endured. 

He flashes you a small smile, “Where’s the fun in that?” Your eyes go wide, starting to put the pieces together; what was he going to do with you? A spark of fear flashes inside you, suddenly realizing the position you were in; you had no chance at defeating him, you were severely injured and your mind races with thoughts of the horrible tortures you could be subjected to if captured alive. 

“You’ll have to kill me.” You say, rushing at him in a desperate final action; he pivots to dodge your attack, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you close, his hand slipping under the right side of your shirt. You can’t help the gasp that leaves you when he touches you, his gloved hand on your bare skin; after months without him, it’s ecstasy. You feel his laugh rumble through you, his chest pressed to your back, his hot breath on your ear. Your vision blurs and you aren’t sure if it’s from your injuries or the elation you feel at his presence. 

“So you did miss me, little dove…” His hushed voice makes your knees tremble, you can feel your strength fading, Alexia’s handiwork finally starting to get the best of you as you desperately try to cling to consciousness. 

“I remember it all you know… The mansion.” His mention of the Spencer mansion jerks your attention as you fight to stay awake, “How you held me as I died… How you’d tried to save me… Barry carrying you, kicking and screaming away… My last human thoughts are of you.” Your heart aches for him, he’d been alive in those moments? You want to cry at the thought; what if you’d been able to save him? To bring him home? 

“Albert…” You barely manage to get his name out through the pain, bringing your shaking hand up to touch his wrist. 

“Shhhh, rest now…” His hand wanders over your stomach, it’s a comforting touch and you’re grateful for it. You must be dying now, you’re convinced of it; it isn’t so bad, at least he is here with you, to soothe you in your last moments. You flinch when his fingers hover over the wound on your abdomen, crying out in pain. 

“What is this?” The last of your strength fades, he is the only thing supporting you, preventing you from falling to the ground.

“Parting gift… From… Alexia…” You choke out, turning your head to look at him one last time. Surprisingly, his eyes are the scarlet red color from your dreams, with slit pupils that bore into your soul. You want to touch his cheek, to kiss him, but you’re fading fast. You barely realize that he’s picked you up, carrying you bridal style in his arms; you don’t know where he’s taking you, all the fears from before fading as the last pieces of your consciousness slip away, just happy to be in his arms once again. 

“Dear heart, this is just the beginning…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to get this one up, after writing all the stuff in Raccoon City I needed a little break! My friend pointed out that I've written enough for this to be considered a novel, so that's fun! 
> 
> What's next for us? Guess we will have to wait and see!


	14. Chapter 14

_ You catch glimpses of reality, or at least, what you think is. Laying across a seat your eyes flutter open to see Wesker standing over you. You don’t remember much, you don’t remember your anger, your sadness or pain; you only see his bright red eyes accompanied by the scarlet color of blood across his face. You don’t mean to reach for him, your hand acting on its own. _

_ “Your face…” You don’t feel your own pain, concerned only for him; he laughs and you are happy for a moment.  _

_ “My little dove… Always so concerned for others, even before yourself…” You have only seconds to ponder his words before you fade away again. _

  
  


_ Fluorescent lights, the sound of wheels on tile; the feeling of familiarity that comes from being in a hospital, only this time it is you on the gurney.  _

_ “I need vitals now, did we get her blood test back?” You can barely pick out individual voices or words, not understanding what was being said. Soft vinyl covers your nose and mouth as someone hand pumps air into you, hard needles poke into your arm and the beeping of an iv pump drones on under the near frantic conversation above you, “It did, but it doesn’t make any sense!”  _

_ “Well make sense of it, if she dies it’s our asses on the block.” Cold liquid seeps into your veins and you’re gone. _

Your nightmares are chaotic to say the least, you’re assaulted by violent images of all types; troves of ants crawling over your body, eating you alive; Alexia’s hand on your shoulder, her fingers lodged in your abdomen, cackling as she rips you apart; flashes of the Spencer mansion, seemingly free of undead until your Nemesis crashes through the front door, hunting you down and killing you slowly. 

Sweat beads on your forehead and brow, face contorted with pain and the trauma of the dreams you were enduring. You wake up with a gasp, finding yourself somewhere unknown; a small room with bright lights, the bed you lay on now and a large mirror. You groan, not wanting to rise, you’d survived? T-Veronica should have killed or turned you into a horrific monster by now; even blood loss or shock should have ended you. 

You take a moment to assess yourself laying down, taking a moment to wiggle your fingers and toes; and bend your legs and arms before trying to sit up. You can feel an iv in your arm, connected to a happily beeping pump; you know better than to rip it out, deciding instead to unscrew the line connecting you to the pump, since it just seemed to be dispensing fluids at the moment. You’re able to sit up on your own but the accompanying nausea almost makes you lose whatever was in your stomach; the all too familiar feeling of a concussion, something you were sick of at this point. 

You decide to stand anyways, curiosity getting the better of you; you wanted to know where you were. Your steps are shaky but you push yourself, forcing your body to walk around the small room to the mirror near the bed. You notice now that you’re in a hospital gown, your thighs and legs exposed, but it is neatly and tightly tied in the back, keeping your back end free from a breeze. 

The sight of yourself in the mirror is horrifying, something out of the nightmares you’d just awoken from. You’ve got a black eye and are covered in bruises and cuts, fresh enough to tell you that you hadn’t been sleeping for long since your trip to Antarctica; some cuts with stitches that are deep enough that you know they will scar. Memories from the trip begin to flood back to you, the fog from whatever anesthetics you’d been given fading away; the pain rushing back with it as you remember Alexia’s gift. 

You tentatively pull at the edge of your gown, afraid to see the carnage. You take a deep breath and pull the fabric up to reveal the wound; it’s carefully covered with wound dressings, which you inadvisably peel back. The hole is packed with wet to dry gauze, serving to soak up excess fluids while your body tried to regrow the flesh that had been taken; you turn in the mirror to look at from the back, another non-stick wound dressing is there, confirming what you remembered, it did indeed go all the way through. You sigh and put the first dressing back the best you can. 

Something on your side catches your eye, and an aching pain goes along with it. You pull your gown further to the right side, revealing a hideous vertical scar that spans most of your stomach, kept together with several large staples; the skin is puckered and purple, with phantom hints of blood tracing the line. The sight of it makes you want to hurl, you can only imagine what would have made such an incision medically necessary, it was much larger than was necessary for most procedures. 

The sound of a door opening doesn’t make you flinch, too focused on examining your wounds; a man clears his throat and you finally turn, the edge of your gown floating down as you realize you’re exposing your underwear. 

The sight of Albert Wesker doesn’t bring you any comfort, too distraught by your condition and the realization that you’re in a facility somewhere. 

“What did you do to me Albert.” It isn’t a question, your voice is tense, and hoarse after not speaking for days; you’re demanding answers. 

The room is small but he is still a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in black with sunglasses as usual, but this time he’s wearing a lab coat; it’s a sight that makes you groan internally, another piece of your nightmares come true. 

“The damage Alexia did to you was-” 

“Alexia didn’t do this to me Albert!” You cut him off, pulling your gown up to reveal the surgical scar on your right side.   
He purses his lips, “She infected you with the T-Veronica virus, it caused significant damage to your organs.” He pauses, “Some had to be transplanted.” You feel whatever color was in your face drain away, you knew how difficult it was to find a match for an organ donor and you doubted whatever corrupt company had taken Umbrella’s place had placed you on a waiting list. They’d killed people to keep you alive. 

“Is there no cure?” You ask, the words faint on your lips, your voice cracking as you turn back to the mirror, bruised eyes vacantly staring at it. 

“No. Alexia deemed it unnecessary to develop one.” His words are soft, you barely notice that he’s stepped closer to you, lost in your own grief. 

You scoff, “Of course not. Why would Umbrella develop a cure for one of their backwoods, _planet-destroying_ bioweapon projects.” You stand in silence, emotions and thoughts in turmoil; you move without thinking, lunging for the mirror, your fist colliding with a satisfying shattering sound. The pain hits you instantly as the mirror shards embed themselves in your knuckles, the pieces of the now broken mirror falling around your feet. You hear Wesker hiss in response as he lurches forward to grab you, pulling you and your wrist away. 

He curses under his breath, “Must you _always_ be so reckless with yourself?” You want to snap at him, to tell him to step off but the look on his face stops you; it’s one of genuine anger and concern, a look of care, even behind his sunglasses you can see it. Your rage fades away, leaving a numbness in its place; the adrenaline from breaking the mirror fades and you catch a glimpse of your bleeding hand, a wave of nausea crashes over you and you almost collapse to the floor. Wesker’s strong hands keep you standing, half-helping, half-dragging you to sit back on the bed. 

“Don’t move.” He growls at you, annoyed at your actions, before briskly walking to the other side of the room to grab a chair and side table. You sit in a daze on the bed, the events of the past few days all too much for you; threatening to bring you to your breaking point. 

He positions the chair in front of you, with the table between you; he gestures for you to give him your hand and you comply, wondering if he’d be able to remove the glass. He pulls a pair of tweezers from his jacket pocket, inspecting your hand carefully; you sit silently as he does, finding this moment all too familiar. He carefully begins to remove the mirror shards from your skin, some of the pieces are incredibly small, you’re surprised he’s able to see them. 

“I didn’t know you were a doctor.” Your voice surprises you, not meaning to say the thoughts aloud; he didn’t need to be a doctor to do what he was doing, but the way he acted gave him away, his precision and steady hands. 

“I am, but not like you, not for this…” He pulls a larger shard out of the soft tissue near your knuckle but you don’t flinch, “I’m a virologist.” 

Of course, it made sense working for Umbrella; a pang goes through your heart, a feeling you think is remorse. Part of you is saddened that you never got to talk about virology together, it is something Umbrella took from you. 

“Shame you had to hide that from me.” It’s a genuine statement, but you realize after the words leave your mouth that they might make him feel guilty. Did he feel guilty? Did he feel any sort of remorse working for Umbrella? For working for whoever he was now? For what he’d put you through? 

“It is,” If he is hurt by your words he doesn’t let on, continuing after a pause, “Your blood test brought back some rather peculiar results, would you like to discuss them now?” He doesn’t look up at you, finishing up the extraction on your hand; you nod slightly and he must see, because he continues on.

“As I’m sure you know by now, T-Veronica has a long gestation period, infection without this gestation causes monstrous mutations. You however, have undergone no such transformation, something we thought not possible. 

Testing your blood revealed dormant t-virus cells in your body, we think this could be the reason you were able to survive infection without a gestation period. Were you infected at some point?” 

You listen quietly, nodding, “Raccoon City… I was there during the outbreak. Umbrella… They deployed a bioweapon to hunt us... Nemesis... Jill and I were both infected, but there was a vaccine at Spencer Memorial Hospital.” You didn’t realize the t-virus was still in your body, it made sense, the vaccine hadn’t killed it, just neutralized it; were you resistant to the virus now? 

Wesker listens to you intently, finished removing the broken glass from your hand. 

“I see.” He trails off, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into the inner pocket of his jacket; he fixes his intense eyes on you. Your face flushes red, it had been hard enough to endure his sharp stare when his eyes were blue, now that they were a vivid shade of carmine it was even more difficult. You can’t handle it, being back under his gaze made you want to scream; making you think of how things were before Arklay, as well as reminding you of your nightmares. 

“You also had traces of Experiment W dormant in your system, a virus only administered to one other person… Do you have any idea how that happened?” His voice is intense, his question strange; as if he knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it. Your heart clenches as you realize. 

“I…” Your voice is pained, unable to keep the picture of his broken body out of your mind, “When… When you were… You were dying, I was… I…” You can’t stop tears from falling, reliving the moments once again, “The glass… On the floor, dozens of shards… I didn’t notice that I’d… That the pieces…” You’re wracked with sobs, the words becoming more difficult to get out, so you hold up the hand he’d just removed broken mirror fragments from, the memory haunting you in the form of a familiar old wound.

“I was covered in your blood Albert. I-I didn’t take care of myself after Arklay… After I lost you… I didn’t even notice the blood and glass until days later… You-You’d taken Experiment W before you died, didn’t you?” You look up at him, eyes round and red with fat tears and you swear a slight gasp escapes him. His gaze is soft, tender, as if he aches for you; his gloved hand lifts from the table, to reach for your face, to caress you, but he stops himself. 

“It should have killed you…” His words are barely a whisper, as if amazed and terrified by or for you at the same time. 

You laugh faintly, a breathy barking sound, “Yeah, well, lots of things should have killed me.” You don’t find any humor in your own words, they only fill you with bitterness. 

“I can see it in your eyes you know. The virus attacks ocular tissue, the edges of your pupils are different, its attacked the shape and color ever so slightly.” His words roll off of you, barely hearing them as questions begin to form in your mind. 

“Albert, where are we? Who are you working for?” He shakes his head at you, annoying you. 

“You need to rest, please. We… We can talk later.” He stands, moving the chair and table back to the corner; you try to protest, to grab onto him, to beg him for answers but he doesn’t give any; instead reconnecting you to the iv pump and wrapping your hand in gauze that he finds in the room. 

“Albert please, I-I can’t be a test subject.” Tears prick the corners of your eyes once again. Something in your voice breaks him, his orange red eyes look at you almost mournfully; he reaches out for you, this time touching your cheek softly. 

“You’re here as my guest.” He says gently, “Now lay back.” You comply, exhaustion beginning to take its toll on your broken body, he was right, you did need to rest; he tucks you in, a tender gesture that makes your heart swell, comforted by this and his words, despite the fears you were trying not to think about, “Someone will be by to clean up the glass. Don’t get out of bed again.” He straightens and turns to leave.

“I’m having a larger space prepared for you.” You reach out for him, wanting him to stay; you grab his hand, rubbing his wrist with two fingers. He lingers for a moment, waiting for you to say what you wanted, to ask your question, but your hand falls away as the exhaustion and pain take you; drifting away into sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love wesker....


	15. Chapter 15

It is difficult for you to keep track of days, your mind is foggy from the nightmares and pain; your body shutting down slightly to fight off the effects of the virus effectively. The next time you’re given a moment of clarity you notice that the broken mirror is gone, and it has not been replaced. 

You’re unsure of how many days have passed since you were infected, feeling as though you were losing whole weeks to sleep. People shuffle in and out of your room constantly, doctors and nurses; you try your best to remember faces and names but everything is hazy. You notice that they are careful not to wear anything identifying, nothing that says who they are, their credentials or who they work for; you realize that this is a deliberate choice, one that makes you suspect that the cloud fogging your mind was purposeful. 

It is a fact that enrages you. 

Carefully, as not to arouse suspicion, you start disconnecting yourself from the iv pump; letting the contents drain into a cup hidden on the floor. You suspected an anesthetic or sleep aid was being mixed into the fluids, a suspicion which was confirmed as your sleeping schedule returned to normalcy and clarity returned to your mind. Unfortunately, whatever pain management you’d been receiving were also mixed into the clear iv fluids; and without them you faced the full force of the agony you’d been blissfully drugged through. 

If the doctors notice how sweat beads on your brow, or how you seem to grit your teeth more than before, they don’t say. You smile sweetly and comply with their requests when you’re supposed to be awake, and pretend to be asleep when the drugs are supposed to affect you. 

It doesn’t take you long to suspect your meal trays, eating less and less of the food provided to you. After a week the brunt of the drugs are out of your system, and though you still have to take meals and hook yourself to the iv pump when doctors are in the room, your mental state has returned to some semblance of normalcy. 

That's when you notice the surgical scar on your abdomen hasn’t healed at all, in fact it looks worse than it had the previous week; the skin more bruised, fresh and dried blood accumulating around the staples, and it hurts. It is difficult to examine without a mirror, a thought that irks you, but you know it’s worse than before. Troubling. 

You’re able to play the part of a drugged and oblivious patient surprisingly well, none of the doctors or nurses seem to notice any change in your demeanor. One of the nurses is too kind, a petite woman with ruddy hair, the wound care nurse who checks and changes your dressings. You know she is unaware of the sinister nature of whoever her employer is, you recognize the symptoms of compassionate obliviousness from your time dealing with unaware Umbrella employees. Her touch is too gentle, her heart too sympathetic to you for her to have any idea what was really going on. The poor sweet fool. 

She stands over you now, you’re on your back, laying as still as possible as she carefully removes the dirty gauze from Alexia’s wound. You made sure to be ‘awake’ when she came by, enjoying her company and morbidly curious about the condition of your injury. 

“Sorry.” She murmurs after a piece of gauze sticks to the skin inside the wound, causing you to flinch. 

“It’s fine.” You whisper back, voice tense as you try to ignore the pain throbbing above your hip. She finishes her work quickly, repacking the wound, sealing it with a non-stick wound dressing before labeling it with a marker. 

“You did really great today!” She beams at you, her smile brings you solace.

You offer a small smile back, “Thank you.” 

She gathers her supplies, throwing away the old dressings and readying herself to exit for the day, “I should be back tomorrow to look at it, then we’ll see about changing it again after that.” 

You nod, appreciative of her bedside manner, something your other caretakers distinctly lacked. 

“Is there anything else you need before I go?” She asks and you shake your head. It pained you to see such a promising nurse working for whatever company was taking Umbrella’s place. 

Without thinking you sit up quickly, grabbing her wrist with a strength that surprises you both, perhaps revealing too much about your false drugged condition; and you pull her close to you, whispering in her ear.

“This company is the next Umbrella… You should leave while you can.” You release her, she staggers away, look of horror plain on her face; a look that sends a pang of regret through your chest. She practically runs from the room, leaving without another word; you never see her again and you hope she heeded your words. The plain faced man who replaces her is not nearly as kind.

You estimate that it has been three weeks since your trip to Antarctica, since your infection with T-Veronica and the realization that Albert Wesker was still alive. It had been a little less than three weeks since his last visit to see you, when you’d broken the mirror. Part of you wishes he would return, to come see you, to give you the answers that you so desperately needed; but a slightly more rational part of you is terrified to see him again, unsure what his presence might entail, if you’d be able to handle seeing him again. You’d get your answer soon enough. 

You were disconnected from the iv pump, something that would normally be forbidden, but you were planning on going to the restroom; the cup you used to empty the fluids bag into was full and needed to be emptied. The bathroom in your room was small and practical, a toilet, sink and a shower. If there had been a mirror it was removed after you had broken the other one; you thought it was rude making you deal with the consequences of your actions. 

You rose from your bed slowly, thankful that the majority of your concussion symptoms had worn off, cup in hand. The door opens then and you groan slightly, you hadn’t been expecting any doctors. 

“You know… Most patients stay connected to the iv when leaving the bed.” The deep voice makes your blood run cold, making you freeze in place. 

“I’m not most patients.” You respond, hoping that he wouldn’t push the subject; you were a doctor after all, but he was right. Disconnecting and reconnecting from the iv line put you at added risk of infection or of bacteria getting into your iv, it would be safer for you to use the pole to move around. 

You turn to face him, trying to act like you hadn’t just been caught doing something you shouldn’t; forcing a slight smile. The sight of Albert Wesker makes your heart jump to your throat, and you curse at yourself silently. 

“I was just going to the bathroom.” You offer, trying to get yourself out of the situation. 

“With your cup?” He asks, voice humorless but the trace of a smile on his lips.

“Am I not allowed to have water?” You fire back, digging yourself into a bigger hole. You notice he’s much closer than he was, somehow closing the distance between you without you noticing. You take a step backwards towards the bathroom, wanting to throw the contents of your cup out before he could discern what they were. 

You take a small sip from the cup, trying not to flinch at the salty bitter taste, hoping he wouldn’t notice the viscosity of the liquid, “The water from the tap is colder.” 

Before you can react he is on you, your back pressed against the wall, wrist pinched between his, knee against your thigh and the cup removed from your hands before you can so much as protest. He is careful with how he presses his weight into you, making sure to avoid placing pressure on your injuries; he raises the cup to his nose, smelling it before setting it on the table next to you with an annoyed exhale. 

“You’re too smart and stubborn for your own good sometimes.” His brow furrows, fixing his eyes on you from behind their sunglasses. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you were _drugging_ me Albert?” You hiss, angry and all too aware of his proximity. 

“It was for your own good.” His voice is restrained, as if he’s trying to keep from yelling at you, breathing harsh. He releases you, taking a step back, trying to regain his composure. 

“Why do you get to decide what’s best for me?” You shout, unable to keep your cool as he did; tears prick the sides of your eyes, emotions betraying you. 

He slams his hand into the wall above you, caging you underneath his body; he always dwarfed you in size, something you used to enjoy, “Because you wouldn’t have taken care of yourself otherwise.” His rage was barely contained, his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose; fiery eyes brimming with anger, you can barely stand being pinned under his stare and size, but his words break you. 

“I…” The tears you’d been trying so hard to keep back spill over now as your thoughts become overwhelming. Would you have taken care of yourself? You know the answer, as much as it pains you. 

“Another one of your organs needed to be transplanted, you wouldn’t have allowed it.” The anger fades from his voice as he speaks; his eyes boring into you, you do your best to meet them.

“You’re right… I wouldn’t have.” Another organ transplant explained why the surgical suture along your side hadn’t healed yet, why the staples hadn’t been removed. You wonder how many people had died to keep you alive, how many of your organs had been replaced? “If you try to replace another, I’ll open this suture myself and personally remove them.” Your voice is surprisingly level, with no evidence of the rage or sadness that previously betrayed you, despite your tears; it is more than a threat, beyond a promise. 

He regards you carefully, exhaling softly, “I know.” He knows you aren’t bluffing. You match his eyes without fear now.

“I want to see my chart, I-I want to know what you’ve been giving me, what you’ve been planning… I… I want to take care of myself… You don’t have to drug me and do this behind my back…” His brow furrows further, his other hand coming up to massage the space between his eyes, unsure what to do with you. 

For a moment his eyes are closed and things are almost like they used to be, despite the bizarre situation, your heart softens. He cared for you, this had all been borne from his worry, from his fear of losing you. You reach up to him, hesitantly taking the sunglasses from his face, gauging his reaction carefully, your fingertips brushing gently against his clenched jaw. His eyes flick open, cat-eye pupils focusing on you intently, his breathing tense. 

You throw the glasses on the bed with reckless abandon; you hate them, you don’t ever want to be deprived of his eyes again. Your fingers find themselves in his hair, lost in the soft blonde locks he kept so neatly trimmed and groomed; your eyes wandering along his jawline, where hints of stubble had begun to form. Had he forgotten to shave? Had he been worried? 

You feel his breathing change underneath you, your touch doing something to him that he hadn’t known he’d needed, hadn’t known he’d been missing. His hand finds your waist and suddenly you’re pulled close, your mouth crashing into his in a soft but greedy kiss. Something you’d both needed more than either of you were willing to admit. 

His tongue is warm, his breath hot and raspy on your lips; breathless nothings whispered into your kiss as he comes apart at your touch. Your stoic captain, the man you’d thought dead, back in your arms once again. 

It is him that pulls away, something you’re surprisingly grateful for, unsure if you’d have ever been able to let go of him. He taps his fist against the wall slightly, as if upset he has to stop himself, as if wishing he could go further, to indulge himself in you more. You lean against the wall, but you’re pressed into him, thankful for his touch, for his presence. 

“I’m having you moved to a new room tomorrow. Somewhere larger, with a lab for you to work if you want… Less cameras.” His words catch your attention, pulling you from your love-struck state. A lab for you to work? On what? Surely he didn’t expect you to work on your personal research here, for some corrupt company? _Less_ cameras? He steps away from you, once again regaining composure, grabbing his glasses from off your bed before slipping them back over his eyes. 

“I’ll come visit you there… I’ll bring you your chart.” It’s a peace offering, an unspoken understanding to respect your wishes. Before you can say anything he is gone, leaving you to wonder what the hell happened and if any of it had even been real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't tell if im happy with my recent writing or not tbh, the story is going as planned but I'm not sure if im completely happy with the way ive written it post RC.... I feel like I could characterize everyone better and describe the scenery better... there are details I feel like i'm missing... i might end up rewriting or updating some parts, im not sure... Im in the process of rereading the story as a whole to see how it flows, idk i dont feel great bro!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> therse smut in this chapter, fair warning! 
> 
> its pretty fluffy tho! 
> 
> tw for slight suicidal ideation :(

The move is unceremonious, a gruff looking man shows up with a wheelchair to escort you to your new room; practically pushing you into the chair when you insist on walking. You’re not particularly attached to the small space you’d grown accustomed to while recovering, but you aren’t keen to leave it; unsure what it will mean to be ‘housed’ in a room with a lab, or if that being in a larger room implies you’d be staying long term. A thought that twists your stomach into knots. 

You do your best to memorize the halls as you pass through them, but the monotonous tile and fluorescent lighting gets the best of you; there’s no chance of you finding your way back, not that it would be helpful to find your old room anyways. 

The man escorting you deposits you into the new space without a word, taking the wheelchair and locking the door behind him; leaving you to explore your new space in silence. The room is brightly lit with the same fluorescent hospital lights from the hall and other room, but thankfully a sliding switch on the wall lets you dim them to a more tolerable brightness. You’d noticed you’d been more sensitive to light, wondering if Experiment W’s attack on your ocular tissue had been affecting your sensitivity to them. You wonder if Wesker wore his sunglasses for a similar reason, was he sensitive to light too? Obviously the glasses hid his unique scarlet pupils, but maybe there was more to it than that. 

You’re surprised how home-like the room is, despite the hospital lighting, it’s set up like an apartment. You currently stand in the ‘living room’ area, which has a plush looking couch and chairs, as well as a large central desk with a computer and comfortable looking office chair. Off to one side is what seems to be the main lab set up, dozens of machines sit silently, waiting to be used for the first time. Next to the lab is what seems to be an area set up for gardening, sunlight's and planter boxes line the wall neatly next to the lab equipment; confirming your fears, Wesker did expect you to work on your research here. 

There’s a small but nicely stocked kitchen, the prospect of getting to make your own meals excites you; cooking for yourself would be a step towards normalcy, plus it would help abate your fears of being drugged through premade food. Next to the kitchen is also a door that leads to a spacious home gym, complete with sparring dummies and exercise equipment.

A door on the right side reveals your new bedroom, a dark and cozy space. A wooden dresser is full of regular clothes, something you’d never been so happy to see; hastily changing into a t-shirt and fatigue pants, not caring about the way your wounds ached when you buttoned them. The bathroom is through a door in the main living space, not connected to the bedroom as an ensuite, instead being more central to the rest of the space. 

You sink into the couch with a content sigh, which is just as comfortable and soft as it looks, and after laying on a hospital mattress for weeks it’s the most comfortable thing you’ve ever laid on. You notice that the room has no windows, and you wonder if you’re underground somewhere. Despite the circumstance, you find yourself quite at home here; something about it feels charming, like you’re back at your old apartment in Raccoon City. Your heart jumps to your throat at the thought; had he wanted it to feel this way?

As if on cue, your front door opens; Albert Wesker stands in the doorway, tall and handsome compared to the plain walls. He is wearing black again, a high turtleneck neatly tucked into belted slacks with a lab coat on top. You wonder when he stopped wearing color, he never wore anything outlandish, but he used to wear different shades of navy, khaki and other jewel tones with black; something about the lack of color makes him seem… wicked. The darkness of the clothes make him seem more angular, harsher; somehow black makes him seem cruel, paired with the sunglasses he always wore he looks cold and indifferent. 

You rise, regarding him carefully; when he was captain of STARS he was stoic and resigned, but he was still approachable. Despite his seemingly tough exterior, he’d always been kind with STARS, sometimes jovial, almost fatherly; the patriarch of your work family. All traces of that seem to be gone, you aren’t sure what to make of him; it was like he was a completely different person, you aren’t sure how to feel or what to do. 

A gloved hand appears from his side, manila folder between leather fingers, “I have your chart for you.” The silence hangs in the air after he speaks, the air heavy between you. 

“Thank you.” You respond, not moving towards him to take it, rooted to the spot. He’d shaven since you’d last seen him, traces of ashen stubble gone; you can’t help the way your eyes linger on his jawline, entranced by the details of his form just as you’d always been. 

“I hope these quarters are more to your liking.” His voice is almost painfully formal, as if he is just as unsure of what to make of you as you are of him. 

You want to tease him, but you don’t, “Yes, they seem fine. Thank you.” 

Neither of you seem to want to take the first step towards each other, but it is him who finally makes it, taking a few small steps forward, holding the folder out to you. You take it absentmindedly, too distracted by his presence to focus on your medical records. 

“How are you feeling?” His question rouses you from your thoughts, surprised by the softness of his voice; you look up at him, eyes trained on his shaded ones.

“Fine.” It is an unsatisfactory answer and you know it. You’re in pain and your body aches; since you started disconnecting yourself from the iv you hadn’t received any painkillers, not that you wanted them anyway. You weren't feeling any other unsavory side effects from Veronica, despite the agony the wounds caused you. If he is displeased with your answer he doesn’t show it, and you know he is. 

He sighs, and you’re suddenly aware of his closeness, less than an arm's length away, “Must you _always_ be so obstinate?” 

You’re angry with him for a moment, but the feeling fades quickly. You didn’t know what he wanted from you; you certainly didn’t know what you wanted from him. 

“Do you really want to pick a fight right now?” You ask, your voice solemn, eyes lowered, fixed on something that wasn’t there. 

He seems taken aback by your question, almost flinching when you ask it, but he recovers quickly, “No. I suppose not.” 

“What do you want with me Wesker, why am I here?” Your voice cracks when you ask, your words rushed; not prepared for any answer he might give. 

“You’re here to receive treatment for the T-Veronica virus.” His voice is deep, husky, so close; you have to force yourself to focus, not allowing yourself to get lost in him. 

“That’s not an answer.” You say, folding your arms, trying not to look at him. 

He sighs, seeming slightly bothered by your questions, as if he didn’t want to answer, “Your mind is a gift to modern medicine, it would have been a crime if you died.” 

You scoff at him, he didn’t give a shit about crime, he certainly didn’t care about the greater good or medicine that benefited the general population, given his previous employer. 

“Don’t _bullshit_ me Albert, why did you save me...? Why didn’t you kill me like you were going. _..going to kill Chris?_ Why treat me for Veronica, why not just _let me die?”_ You can’t help the way your voice raises, the way it cracks when the words leave your lips, emotions finally playing their hand; tears showing themselves at the corner of your eyes. You look at him finally, sick of the way these conversations were playing out, tired of being tearfully trapped in his games, you stab a finger to his chest as you speak, painfully aware how soft the fabric of his sweater is and how tight his chest feels underneath.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He hisses, his gaze surprisingly soft as he meets your eyes, “You’re…” He pauses, “You’re _important_ to me.” His voice is strained, as if it was difficult for him to say, difficult to admit.

You blink, first tears spilling over, the trauma and grief you’d endured over the past few months welling up inside you, threatening to overwhelming you, “I’m important to you?” His gloved hand comes up to stroke your cheek, wiping away your tears and caressing your jawline, a silent confirmation. 

“Albert I _buried_ you...You _betrayed_ STARS, you _betrayed me…”_ Your voice catches as you choke on your words, your emotions consuming you; finally starting to deal with the trauma you’d been attempting to ignore for so long. Tremors wrack your body as you start to sob, body threatening to collapse on itself; he pulls you close, wrapping you in the smell of his cologne and the soft material of his sweater. You don’t resist, thankful to be in his arms again.

“You were _dying_ in my arms and _I left you behind_ … I was covered in your blood for _days_ afterwards Albert… I-I had to _beg_ them to come to your funeral, the department almost wouldn’t pay for it, I almost _lost_ Chris because of it.” You dig your fingers into the collar of his lab coat, trying to get him even closer to you; he gently pulls you to the couch, holding you in his lap. You take off his sunglasses, gripping the front of his shirt tightly, forcing him to look at you, to press his forehead to yours; you make him look you in the eyes as you ask your next question.

“If I’m so _important_ to you why did _you leave me behind?”_ Your voice shakes as tears fall from your lashes onto his cheeks, “Why did you drag me to that _godforsaken_ mansion, after you knew what I’d been through? Why… Why did you let Umbrella _hunt_ me down Raccoon City?” Your breath catches, straining to get the words out through your sobs, his eyes boring into you. 

You don’t recognize the look on his face, brows knit into a near-pained expression; he struggles to stay composed, your words bringing out something in him he didn’t know was there, a guilt he’d been silently carrying. 

“It wasn’t that simple,” He says, one of his leather gloved hands finding your waist as the other brushes the side of your face; his voice is pained, desperate to make you understand, to understand his decisions, his past, who he really was, “I tried to convince you to stay behind from the Arklay Mission. I tried to have you extracted from Raccoon City.” 

“Nikolai…” Your voice trails off and he nods. 

“I couldn’t just show up at your front door, you lived with Jill. Even if I had, I may have only traumatized you further… What do you do when a... _ghost_ shows up at your doorstep?” His voice is a low pained whisper, lingering on the word ‘ghost.’ 

“It couldn’t have been more traumatizing than learning you’d been working for Umbrella the whole time…” You hiss, voice fast and tense, looking away from him; you rub your temples, beginning to nurse a migraine, “The company I’d been running from for so many years… You don’t know what I went through in _Africa... in Arklay... in Raccoon City.”_ Your voice raises, nearly turning into a shout, “I _grieved_ for you when no one else would! I was _alone_ without you Albert! _Betrayed_ by you!” You hang your head in your hands, tears falling fast. 

He is silent, letting you get out what you needed to say, hand hesitantly hovering at your side, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this you know.” He breaks the silence, “I had a _plan_. I had a plan every time. Things never seem to go according to plan around you…” He trails off. 

“Things got out of hand at Arklay, I’m… I should have died.” He holds his forearm out, wrist facing upwards, skin peeking out from under his lab coat and shirt, showing you the veins there as a sort of grand gesture, “The virus saved me, but I waited for death for what felt like hours, I could feel the blood leaving my body, taking its warmth with it... You were the last comfort I thought I would ever know, innocently trying to save me, the man who betrayed your squad.” He turns his wrist, as if examining a wound that has long since healed. 

“In a way, you are like the last human part of me; a part I can’t let go of or shake; a little ghost of the man I used to be.” You blink, surprised by the genuineness of his words, by the tenderness of his voice; momentarily forgetting his crimes and actions, what he’d done, the grief he’d caused you and who he’d killed. You were just as much his ghost as he was yours, phantoms of an old and nearly forgotten more peaceful past, a life you realize was fake now. 

“You should have let me die…” You say, your words surprising even yourself, “I’m… I’m not strong enough… I can’t keep fighting, can’t keep living like this…” Your hand flutters above Alessia’s parting gift, the wound that infected you, eyes stinging from the amount of tears they have shed. 

He lets out a growl, grabbing you by the wrist, wrenching your chin upwards, forcing you to look up at him, “You are the _only_ one whose strong enough. You have _no idea_ how special you are.” You shake your head, exhausted. 

“Nobody else could have survived what you’ve been through.” 

You open your mouth to speak, his hand firm but tender on your jaw; painfully close to the sensitive places on your neck. 

“Albert, I-I’m not-” He cuts you off.

“You’re _stronger_ than you know… More _powerful_ than you know.” His eyes are soft as he looks at you, gaze trailing off as he examines your face and features; despite their tenderness you can’t help but notice the hunger behind them, as if he’d been starved of you, like he couldn’t get enough of you. 

When you try to speak and protest again he hushes you gently, his grip on your face softening as he strokes your cheek and hair instead, trying to reassure you. 

“I won’t hear it. Your strength knows no bounds, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” He places a kiss on your forehead, a tender gesture that makes your heart skip. Your harsh emotions fade, once again aware of his closeness; of his hand on your hip, his fingers tangled in your hair. You can’t help yourself, you’ve missed him so much. You adjust yourself, moving your leg to straddle him closer, leaning forward until your lips crash into his; greedy, needy and desperate. After months without him you can’t help yourself or your feelings anymore, despite what he’d done; you cared so much for him. 

He gasps underneath you, making what you think is a soft moan as he hungrily kisses you back, your teeth nearly colliding in desperation to feel one another once again. His hand flutters over your waist, as if afraid to touch or hurt you; the other hovering above your back, fingertips brushing against your shirt every so often. Your own hands bury themselves in his hair, pulling strands of tidy, gelled blonde hair free of their neat style; you wanted to mark him, to pull him free of the cruel persona he seemed to give off now, you wanted to reveal your Albert once again. 

You kiss your way down his neck, until your teeth find their mark and you begin to nip at the sensitive flesh above his turtleneck; taking in his heavenly scent and enjoying the way he squirms beneath you. He hisses, prying you away from his neck and back into a harsh kiss; you grind against his hips, making it clear what you want, overjoyed to feel him stiffen through his pants as you press against him. He allows this for a moment, rubbing back against you, his arms gripping you tight as he pulls you close, all hesitation gone. 

Not to be outdone, he goes for your neck, returning the favor as an act of revenge; biting roughly at your tender exposed neck. He is merciless, sucking several bruises into your skin to mark you as his; all you can do is moan, his strong arms have you pinned in place as you grind against each other desperately. Your attempt at showing dominance had backfired, he had you pinned now as he reminded you who was in charge; you whimper his name and he growls with satisfaction into your neck, a sensation that makes you whimper louder and expose your neck for him even more. 

You can’t take anymore, detaching one hand from his hair, fumbling for his belt. He freezes beneath you, muscles stiff and tense at your unexpected touch, breathing rough.

His voice is breathless against your ear, still holding you tightly, “I-I can’t… I might hurt you.” He was much stronger than before, you both knew this. In your weakened and injured state it was a definite possibility that he would aggravate or worsen your injuries; you definitely weren’t cleared for this sort of activity, especially when your partner had superhuman strength and might not be able to control himself. You want to tell him you don’t care, that you want him to hurt you; anything just to be with him again, but you know that would upset him.

You grip both sides of his face, looking deep into his ruby eyes, rubbing his temples slightly to reassure him, “Then be gentle with me.” 

He shakes his head, voice low and breathy, trying to restrain himself, “I-I don’t know if I can…” You move your hands back to his belt, slowly undoing it, ready to stop if he says no. His cock springs free into your awaiting hand, nicely swollen and nearly purple, and you stroke him gently. 

You press your forehead to his, your own voice heady with desire, “Then _break_ me Albert.” Your words are too much for him and he groans, unable to stop himself as he reaches for your pants, grabbing them by the seam and ripping his way in effortlessly; not willing to wait for you to take them off the traditional way. He spits on his gloved hand, palming his cock to lube it, practically shuddering with need.

You sit up for him, getting closer before sitting back down above his waiting cock, and he thrusts to meet you, splitting you before you can make it all the way down. You can’t help the sound that escapes you as he hisses into your neck, guiding you down onto him. You can tell he’s trying to restrain himself, to be gentle with you so he doesn’t hurt you; but a dark part of you wants him to let go, to disregard his noble desire to protect you, and let him take his frustrations out on you, to fuck you within an inch of your life, until you couldn’t speak and were practically bleeding. 

He pumps into you hesitantly, silently asking you if you were okay, “I-I’m fine Al… _please…”_ It was mostly the truth, your wounds hurt but you were ignoring that pain; after months without him it felt like he was breaking you in half, and he was barely thrusting. He can tell you’re in pain, but he can’t stop himself; he’s needed you just as badly as you’d needed him and now that he had you, there was no way he could stop now. 

His thrusts speed up, pumping into your warmth hungrily; your moans are sharp as they escape you, his name and surname flying off your lips as the pleasure over takes you. He pulls you tight, one hand palming your ass and the other strewn across your back, pressing you against him as his cock punches into you mercilessly, beginning to lose his restraint and control. 

_“Fuck…”_ He moans into your neck, bottoming out against your cervix, making you clench around him; you whimper against him, fingers reaching for your clit. He swats your hand away, replacing it with his own, roughly pressing his own fingers against it, making a circling motion that nearly makes you scream. 

“You’re _mine,_ you hear me?” He growls into your ear; his hips snap up, pumping into you with a few more precise and controlled thrusts, putting space in between them before resuming his vigorous pace. 

“Ye-Yes Albert, _fuck…”_ The pleasure is too much for you, borderline pain as he is unable to control himself or resist you any longer, your orgasm building rapidly, “I-I’m, I’m goin-” 

_“Cum for me, little bird, cum on my cock.”_ You can’t take it anymore, his words send you over the edge as your orgasm practically slams into you, making you cry out in pleasure and see stars as your walls clench around him. 

He hisses in satisfaction, scarlet eyes transfixed on you as you ride out your pleasure on top of him. He doesn’t let up though, fingers still circling your clit as he pounds you relentlessly, making you tremble deliciously around him in overstimulation. 

You whimper, the onslaught almost too much, _“Al…”_ His hand leaves your clit, finding its way back to your ass as he pumps into you even faster than before, threatening to break you; he squeezes you tighter than intended, thrusts almost violent as he slams into you, his own orgasm nearing release as he bites down on your neck, eliciting a sharp moan from you. 

His breathing changes, ragged and harsh. He swears as he begins to cum; unwilling to stop thrusting into you as he does, pumping his cum deep inside you as he slows, finishing with a final solid thrust, sheathing himself in you to the base with a hoarse groan. The two of you sit there for a moment, catching your breath as you both come down from your orgasms; you grind on him just a little bit more, not willing to be done yet, despite how overstimulated your clit and cunt were. He lets out a small chuckle, you’re pulled close enough to him to hear his laughter rumble against your chest; he rewards you with a few more shallow thrusts, pleased at your eagerness. 

Your fingers find his hair once again, pulling him into another kiss and pushing him back against the couch. He allows this, neither of you wanting the moment to end, kissing you gently. 

“Don’t ever leave me again, okay?” You pull away and say, your voice soft and anxious, it is less of a question and more of a hesitant demand. 

“Never.” He responds, without hesitation, pulling you close and planting a gentle kiss on your cheek. You lean against his chest, nuzzling against his neck and planting a few more happy kisses there. 

The tenderness of the moment is short lived as he tenses beneath you. You sit up to look at him and see his brows are knit in aggravation; not at you but at himself, “We shouldn’t have done that.” 

You blink at him blankly, confused, “Why not?” 

He shakes his head, fingers coming up to pinch his brow, “I could have hurt you, in your current condition I could have _easily…”_ He trails off, as if unwilling to verbalize his thoughts, eyes staring off to the side, “I should know better than to indulge myself in you, you need time to recover.” 

“Albert, it’s okay; I can take it.” You try to soothe him but his expression is still conflicted. You know he’s right, as the adrenaline begins to wear off you notice the dull ache of the worsening pain that’s beginning to bloom across your abdomen, you try to ignore it but you can’t hide a wince as you shift on top of him. 

“You misunderstand… You don’t realize how much control I must exercise over my own strength… Or how difficult it is to control myself around you.” His eyes are dark, jaw clenched, clearly angry with himself. 

Your fingers on his jaw guide his eyes up to you, “You didn’t hurt me, I’m fine Albert.” Your words are barely a whisper, wishing you knew what to say to make him feel better. 

He shakes his head again, “I can smell your blood, one of your wounds is bleeding. I should have stopped, I should have been more careful.” It was rare you saw him vulnerable like this, he normally guarded his emotions carefully and kept his composure at all times. 

“I am… not the man I used to be; I’m… no longer _human._ The virus has turned me into a new breed of _monster…”_ Your heart aches for him, did he really feel this way? 

You press your forehead against his, forcing him to look you in the eye, “Do you think I’m a monster?” You ask. 

He looks shocked for a moment but doesn’t hesitate before answering, “Of course not.” 

“Then neither are you. I share your virus and another, if you’re no longer human then neither am I.” His expression is pained, confronted with a point of view he hadn’t considered. He offers you a small half smile, seemingly finding some comfort in your words; still angry at himself, but satisfied for the moment, he squeezes your thigh, 

“Let's get you cleaned up, little dove.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYES
> 
> feeling better about my writing this week!
> 
> I think I also want to do a spin off of this series that is... just porn? This series has been pretty light on the smut bc I've been focused on the story, and only including it where it feel relevant, but I think I'd like to do a separate but related series where its just smut! Same character/insert but without as much story surrounding the good stuff, more porn without plot type stuff! Bc theres definitely lots of sex that happened that didn't get written about! lmk what u think!


	17. Chapter 17

You stand outside a makeshift tent, wringing your hands together; going over the words you’d practiced a hundred times in your head over and over again, hoping your discovery would help make up for the tragedy your team had experienced here. Your hand hesitantly flutters above the fabric door, unsure if you should attempt to knock or just walk in. That’s when the sound of your captain’s bellowing laughter rings out.

“The experiment was a resounding success! T did it’s job flawlessly, despite whatever supposed ‘resistance’ the locals had!!” The man lets out another hearty laugh, the sound of skin on skin echoes out, as though he clapped his hands together in glee, “I’ll be sure to pass the results on to my superiors, your virus has some serious military potential!” 

A small gasp escapes you, you weren’t supposed to hear this conversation. Had the attack on the village been purposeful? An experiment? Your mind races with painful thoughts. You curse at yourself for making noise as the tent door flies open, practically squeaking in shock. A tall blonde man stands in the doorway, dressed in black; he has a cruel smile, and intense eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses; eyes he had focused on you. 

“Well well…” He muses, and before you can respond or try to stammer out some sort of excuse he grabs you by the throat, dragging you into the tent, tossing you to the floor at your captain’s feet, “It seems you have a little mouse problem, captain.” 

You sputter on the floor, on your hands and knees trying to catch your breath after the rough treatment, tears in your eyes as you look up at your captain, who looks at you with frustrated disappointment. 

“I-I was coming to-to deliver my report, c-captain.” You barely get the words out before a swift kick to the gut knocks the wind back out of you, sending you reeling. 

“Well…?” The man asks, not giving you any time to respond before he grabs you by your hair, wrenching you back onto your knees, facing your captain, “Give your report.” 

Between the pain and the horrifying situation you can’t help but cry, somehow even more terrified for your life than you had been during the outbreak; but you grit your teeth, trying to be brave as you look up at your squad leader. The older man looked at you firmly but gently, arms folded; you knew him well enough to know that he was upset, his clenched jaw unmistakable under his puffy mustache. 

“I… I didn’t find anything of value.” A lie. An unpracticed one, something you hoped would go unnoticed. The grip on your hair tightens and you wince, “The locals' good health seems to be a stroke of good luck or superstition. I-I failed to find a source.” You practically choke on the words, determined to protect your findings, even at the cost of your own life. You couldn’t tell them, not after what you just heard. 

The man behinds you leans down, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear; you don’t realize how close he is until you hear his deep voice on your neck, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

“So you failed…?” 

You ignore him the best you can, looking up at your captain, tearful eyes pleading, “During the outbreak… I was so scared… I thought we were all going to die.” Your words hang in the air, desperate. 

Your captain looks at you for a moment, eyes flicking between you and the man holding you captive. You knew he had a soft spot for you, something you were praying would help you survive now. 

“Surely we can let her go…? She’s a bleeding heart doctor, I doubt she heard anything anyways.” Your heart races; he was sticking up for you, trying to save you. 

A low chuckle rumbles behind you and all the hope you had fades, replaced by icy fear. He was going to kill you. 

“Ahh… You like this one, don’t you captain? I can’t say I blame you, she’s quite nice to look at…” His other hand comes up from his side to stroke the side of your face, not loosening his grip on your hair; you try to struggle away from his touch, trying not to whimper. 

He pushes you forward suddenly, releasing your hair and dropping you onto your hands and knees, “Be sure she doesn’t remember anything, or you’ll both find out what worse fates than death there are.” 

  
  


You wake up screaming, covered in cold sweat. Your nightmares were normally extreme, but nightmares about Africa were always worse; the place you were first broken. The dream is so vivid it threatens to shake your grip on reality. You know that didn’t happen, but it felt real enough to scare you beyond consolation. It felt like a memory. A false memory conjured by your fear and imagination, specifically meant to torture you; the thought makes you shudder involuntarily. 

You avoided thinking about Africa at all times, to the point of near repression, but you remembered what happened clearly. Parts of the dream had been true, perhaps that’s why it’d felt so real. You had gone to give your report to your captain, you had stood outside his tent and heard him say those things, but you’d had the good sense to step a few feet away; enough space to give you plausible deniability. When you’d finally worked up the nerve to enter you’d nearly run into the man your captain was talking to… A man that looked suspiciously similar to the one from your dreams, now that you thought about it. 

There’d been no beating, no threats; just a pair of icy eyes glowering at you from behind sunglasses as you’d squeaked out an apology for nearly crashing into him. A toothy smirk, and then he was gone. The realization that it may have been Albert Wesker all those years ago makes your heart sink to your stomach.

The opening of the door rouses you from your fearful thoughts, Wesker himself appearing in the doorway. You hope he doesn’t notice the way you flinch when you see it’s him. 

“What happened? You were screaming.” He seems concerned, but it doesn’t feel like a question, more like he’s asking you for a report; he moves to sit on the bed next to you. He’s dressed down in some night pants, a ribbed white tank top that shows off his toned arms and thankfully no sunglasses; you must have woken him up somehow. 

You panic slightly when he gets closer, the emotions from your nightmare still lingering, “I-I’m fine!” You say, fear clear in your voice. You try to calm yourself down, “I just had a nightmare, that’s all.” 

His brow furrows, clearly noticing how affected you were. You can tell he wants to reach for you, to offer you physical comfort, but he’s smart enough to know you don’t want it; you’re thankful for that. 

“I have nightmares all the time, I’ll be fine.” You say before he can ask any follow up questions, voice strained, hoping to dissuade him from prying, “How… How did you know I was screaming?” Your question is hesitant, you knew there were cameras somewhere in your ‘apartment,’ but you hadn’t been able to get any information about them out of him thus far. 

He hesitates before speaking, as if unsure this is the right moment to share this information, “There are cameras throughout your quarters for your own safety. Only I have access to view them. For your bedroom I thought it more appropriate to have a microphone, for your... privacy.” 

If you weren’t so shaken from your nightmare you might have been angry; cameras for your “safety”? That seemed like bullshit to you, but you’re too rattled to care. 

“I heard you screaming and came to make sure you were okay.” You feel a little guilty for a moment, at least in this moment he used them to ensure your safety, despite the obvious invasion of privacy. 

“I’m fine Al, thank you for coming to check on me.” You place your hand on top of his and offer him a reassuring smile; unsure if it's to make you or him feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	18. Chapter 18

“You can study anything you like here you know.” Wesker’s voice isn’t a shock to you, despite your insistence that you’d be fine alone, he’d spent the night on the couch just in case. You’d been visibly shaken by your nightmare, as you always were when reminded of your time in Africa; he’d wanted to make sure he was there in case you had another nightmare. You don’t know if he didn’t trust you not to do something stupid or reckless with yourself, or if he genuinely cared enough to make sure you slept through the night. After your dream last night you’re not sure if you can trust him either, not that you really could have in the first place; but now you were really on edge. 

You don’t respond, eyes dancing over the rows of medical and scientific equipment in front of you; it would have cost a fortune to get a lab like this, whoever he was working for had deep pockets, just like Umbrella. Your fingers trace the top of a blood chemistry analyzer, which seems to be brand new, as you make your way through the lab area of your living room. You stop in front of a few shallow gardening planters, which seem almost out of place amongst all the high tech lab equipment. 

You feel Wesker’s hand on your shoulder, making you jump; cursing your own distracted nature. He squeezes your shoulder slightly, you’re not sure if it’s meant to be an apology for scaring you or a reassuring gesture. It’s difficult for you to look at him, all you can see is the cruel version of him from your nightmares; so you avoid his eyes, looking down at your feet instead, arms folded. 

He doesn’t seem deterred by your behavior, reserved and collected as usual. He reaches for the wall, pressing a button you hadn’t seen. A length of the wall begins to move, revealing a tinted glass pane and door behind it. Behind the hidden glass wall is a mostly empty room, with high ceilings and what you realize are planting tables scattered throughout. He guides you into the secret room, which is much warmer than the rest of your apartment. 

“It’s a greenhouse…” You practically whisper, terrified of the implications. 

“I thought you may want to continue your research into the uponyaji trees while you were here.” He folds his arms behind his back, silently asking if you liked it. Your breath catches when he says the name of the tree, he remembered what they were called, “Though, my people searched your home and found no trace of them, I’m sure you’ve noticed some of your personal effects are here.” 

You start to panic. He’d had people search your apartment? After Raccoon City you’d rented something cheap, but you hadn’t been able to stay long before leaving for Europe to hunt down Umbrella with Chris. You hadn’t moved your research there, not expecting to stay long enough to need to; your trees were still at a warehouse facility a few cities over from where RC used to be, being automatically watered. You had noticed that the small amount of personal belongings you had were here: a tattered blanket, a few shirts, including some STARS issue t-shirts, a lighter and now much else, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. 

You feel your heart rate start to rise, your thoughts racing, “Albert…” You strain to get his name out, it feels like your throat is going to close up; your hands unconsciously clench and unclench into fists, and even though you don’t feel it, you know you’re shaking.

“How long do you intend to keep me here?” Your voice is a tense whisper, fighting back your fear and rage. He doesn’t answer, letting the question hang between you. 

“It will take a while for your wounds to heal, it’s not safe for you to leave until you’re fully recovered.” You know he’s trying to deflect, to avoid actually answering your question. 

“And when I’m healed you’ll just let me go?” You turn to face him, fists balled, your voice raising slightly, “Stop bullshitting me Albert, I’m sick of it.” Your face is red hot; he remains composed, not rising to your temper, “You can’t just keep me here Albert, I’m not your prisoner.” 

“No, you’re here as my guest.” His jaw twitches, his voice firm and low, “You’re _here,_ instead of strapped to a lab table having god knows what done to you because of _my insistence.”_ Your blood runs cold and you feel the color drain from your face; you take a step away from him, your anger replaced with fear. 

“Do you know what would have happened to you if I hadn't intervened? My mission was to retrieve a sample of the T-Veronica virus, and while I recovered another body with a sample, a live specimen is always preferred,” He pauses, “I’ve been trying to protect you” He sighs, shaking his head slightly. 

Your lip trembles, stumbling away from him until your back hits the greenhouse wall, desperate to get away from him as the gravity of your situation crashes into you fully. You were truly trapped and at his mercy, what would happen if he grew tired of you? If you fought? If you decided you didn’t want to be his perfect little prisoner?   
“What do you want from me Albert?” You ask the question tearfully, sick of having to ask it. Your palm presses into the greenhouse glass behind you, half tempted to smash it out of raw instinct and emotion.

He closes the distance between you, placing his arm above you to lean on the glass; careful to give you some space, “I want you here, with me.” He says, his voice low, practically a growl, “You’re free to research anything you like, I can get you anything you want.” He pauses, shoulders sagging slightly, like a weight had been lifted off them. 

“I want you to be happy here.” His voice is genuine, soft; he leans into you slightly, like he wants to kiss you, his hand hovering near your face. 

You look up at him, catching his ruby eyes with yours. He’s looking at you earnestly, and you notice how his eyes are almost orange and gold in this lighting. 

“And if I’m not?” You whisper, scared of his answer. 

His expression becomes pained and you can see the hurt in his eyes, his fist balls on the glass above you, 

“Then… I let you go.”    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst! angst! angst!
> 
> Got two chapters done today! We're over 50k words in! Now if only I could harness this energy to work on my writing projects that weren't fanfic smut :sobs:


	19. Chapter 19

It’s days before you respond to him, instead sulking around your room and doing your best to ignore his constant presence. He isn’t always there, but he makes sure to show up throughout the day to check on you, something that’s both a blessing and a curse. His closeness caused turmoil in you, he was the man you loved, you had such rich history together; but he was also the source of your trauma, your betrayer, your captor. He was a cruel man, and you knew that, he worked for Umbrella, killed a countless amount of people and god knows what else; but you couldn’t help yourself around him. When he was with you the pieces of the old Albert came out, the kind and soft pieces; the pieces of the man he used to be, or at least, the man you thought he used to be. 

You couldn’t help but feel like a bird trapped in a cage; a pet kept for his amusement; it’s a feeling that makes you want to break everything in sight, to destroy the cage you were being kept in, to revolt, to escape. Sometimes you can feel the destruction on the edges of your fingertips, waiting to be released; every time you get close to releasing it you think of his eyes, how he’d been desperate for you to accept him, to accept this place. How he’d been near tearful at the thought of losing you, the pain in his blood red eyes so clear on his face.

It makes all thoughts of escape stop. 

“If I tell you where my trees are, nobody can know about my research.” He listens to your demands quietly, leaning against the wall you’d cornered him at when he entered your room, not intimidated by your presence. 

“I mean it Albert, I know exactly how many trees there are, how many seeds I have in storage and I have a general idea how much fruit has matured by now.” Your voice is fierce, this was the work you’d spent most of your life protecting, you weren’t about to let some second rate Umbrella wannabe virologist take it and use it to create bioweapons, or find a way to counteract its antiviral properties. 

“Anything else?” You’re taken aback by his voice, not expecting him to give in so easily; you’d anticipated him wanting to take samples back to his team or company to analyze, something you couldn’t allow. 

You regard him carefully, trying not to glare at him outright, “I’m not working on bioweapons projects, and I won't use my research to continue Umbrella’s work.” 

He nods solemnly, understanding the seriousness of your demands, “Of course.” 

It was all much easier than you expected, it made you suspicious; he wasn’t going to even put up a fight? Even a little one? It couldn’t be that simple. 

“I swear to god Albert if I find out any of my work is stolen or used without my permission I will burn this whole place to the ground.” For some reason your blood boils, you’re irrationally angry and he hasn’t done anything to cross you yet. Your skin feels hot and white hot pain flares from the hole in your abdomen; you grit your teeth, doing your best to ignore it, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“I understand.” You can barely see his eyes behind his sunglasses, the dark frames obscuring his gaze. You hated those glasses, you were close to banning them from your room all together, hating not being able to see his eyes. Despite your own anger, he was composed; casually listening to you as if you weren’t bristling next to him. Your brow furrows, it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Why aren’t you _arguing?_ Don’t you want to take my research for whatever company you’re working for?” 

He doesn’t answer for a moment, you can practically see the thoughts forming in his head, “Of course I do, your research has immense potential for further developing bioweapons, as well as creating vaccines against them. I’d like nothing more than to study it myself.” His tone is serious, his leather gloved hand coming up to rub his jaw, other arm crossed against his chest. Despite his seriousness you can hear the wonder hidden deep in his voice, something most people wouldn’t notice; he was a scientist after all, and the prospect of studying something new that could counteract his own research was definitely something he was interested in. 

“So why don’t you?” Your question is quiet, worried about his answer. 

He shakes his head, hand moving to caress your cheek, “Because I told you I wanted you to be happy here, and I meant it.” His other hand moves to remove his sunglasses, tucking them into a side pocket of his coat. He focuses his cat-eye pupils on you, the normally harsh red color softening to a melody of sunset orange and gold as he looks at you, “If that’s what it takes to make you happy, then so be it.” 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for slight suicidal ideation towards the end

“You’ve got a fever.” His tone is matter-of-fact; he looms over you, the thermometer used to take your temperature in a gloved hand. 

You shrug, “I don’t _feel_ like I have a fever.” It was true, you didn’t have any traditional fever symptoms, you felt completely fine. He frowns at you, blonde brows furrowing together as he looks down at you from over his sunglasses, which had fallen further down the bridge of his nose. 

“At one hundred and seven degrees you should be dead.” You can tell he’s keeping himself from snapping at you, his voice tense and words rushed; trying to keep his composure around you. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, I feel fine.” You pause, thinking, “Is my body trying to fight off the virus?”

He shakes his head, a piece of blonde hair falling from its immaculate style; it was late, he had come by to see you after working all day, and the stress of his work clear in his posture, “No, the virus has bonded to your body, you’re far beyond fighting it off.” 

He pauses for a moment, slicking the escaped strand back with the rest of his hair and pushing his glasses back up his nose. You almost frown, you enjoyed seeing him come unraveled from his composure; the sleeves of his dress shirt were messily rolled up and his tie had been removed and discarded, leaving the top few buttons of his pristine shirt to hang open. Something about seeing him this way was almost… intimate, domestic; you treasured seeing the slightest cracks in his rough and stoic exterior, knowing you were the only one who ever got close enough to see them. 

“Are you listening, dove?” His words rouse you from the intense focus you had on the edge of his collar, where a hint of his collarbone was peeking out from the top buttons. You ‘hmm’ at him, not really paying attention to his questions or your exam, far more interested in enjoying the skin he’d unwittingly exposed for you. 

Gloved fingers grip your chin, gently jerking your head upwards to look him in the eyes. You try to pull your head away out of shock, surprised by the touch, but his grip is firm; you know he’s upset with you, you should have been paying attention. No one in his work life would dare ignore him, he had a commanding presence, one that demanded attention and turned even strong-willed workers into meek and submissive yes-men; anyone who’d made the mistake of ignoring him, disobeying or failing their orders received any amount of cruel punishments at his hands, and repeat offenders usually weren’t heard from again. 

Then there was you, who seemed to willfully defy him; if you were an employee or anyone else he would have gotten rid of you a long time ago, slowly and painfully. 

That was the lie he told himself anyways. 

He couldn’t deny himself you, something about you brought him to his knees; full of a violent need to protect you, to keep you safe and close. He didn’t understand it, part of him loathed it; hating having anything close to a weakness, knowing he would bring the world to its last breath if it meant saving you. 

Was this what love was? 

He didn’t understand what was so special about you, sure you were beautiful, but he could have anyone he wanted. Maybe it was because you weren’t terrified of him, unlike anyone else; even in STARS you’d never been afraid to approach him. You hadn’t been afraid to take him on in Antarctica, despite seeing how he’d changed and being gravely injured; in fact you’d chased after him, practically demanding to fight. Even now, when he could crush or kill you in one blow you weren’t scared, you trusted him even. 

You were beyond smart, you were a genius, just like him; but you were in every sense his opposite. Humble, a martyr, with a strong sense of moral righteousness, always putting others first even at high cost. You were good. You were pure. 

Unlike him. 

He was a monster; created by Umbrella to be their perfect obedient little soldier, to carry out their world vision, to develop their viruses and kill without hesitation. Even now with Umbrella gone he’d turned to another devilish company, to offer his services as a weapon; it was all he knew. 

Was it his curse, to be in love with someone who was his opposite? Someone as pure and good as you? He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you; someone who’d done the things he’d done didn’t deserve anything good in their life. Would you understand if he tried to explain it to you? 

“Albert?” Your soft voice stirs him from his thoughts for once, not realizing he was still holding your face, lost in his troubled musings. He pulls his hand away, adjusting his glove at the wrist, and you rub the skin where his fingers had gripped you barely too tightly. Brief shock crosses his face, and he curses to himself, he should have been paying more attention, exactly what he was upset with you for. 

He kneels in front of your chair, making you stiffen in surprise; he grabs your wrist, pulling your hand to touch the side of his neck. The back of your palm brushes against the fabric of his shirt, your fingers resting comfortably on his skin. To you his skin is cold, freezing in fact, and he shudders under your touch, the warmness of your fingertips making goosebumps break out across his shirt covered shoulders. 

“How does my skin feel to you?” His question is a near whisper, his eyes never leaving you. Your gaze flutters over him, not used to the sight in front of you; he was messy by his standards, kneeling between your legs, letting you touch his neck, something you both knew was an act of submission. It was unusual for him to behave this way, the two of you normally locked in a silent battle for dominance, a battle he normally won. Submission from Albert Wesker was hard fought for and had a long time after it, he didn’t give up control easily. 

This was different, it was like he was asking for forgiveness, begging even; the closest he would ever get to begging at least. 

“Cold.” You respond, your voice distracted, eyes grazing over every inch of him. It was a pleasant coldness at least, it wasn’t until you’d touched him that you realized how warm you were. Your other hand reaches out unconsciously, finding itself at the other side of the base of his neck. Your hands wander on their own, stroking the sides of his neck, enjoying the coolness of his skin; you have to stop yourself from touching his face, all you want to do is stroke his jaw and cheek, and to use your thumb to pull his bottom lip open. 

He trembles slightly, the warmth on his neck stimulating him in a way he hadn’t intended, “My temperature averages to one hundred degrees, higher than most humans; because of the virus.” He manages to keep his voice from shaking, “If I feel cold to you, that should tell you how severe your own fever is.” 

You blink at him, trance created by his skin broken, “Jesus.” 

He takes his sunglasses off, setting them on the table next to you. He pulls your hands away from his neck, something that you resist a little, he holds them in your lap and looks at you somberly; cat-eye pupils focused on you. 

“You may be healing, but your health is still in critical condition. Veronica is dangerous and what you’re going through is completely unprecedented.” One of his hands finds its way to your thigh, squeezing it slightly as his eyes burn into yours, “Please, from now on take your medical exams more seriously.” 

You’re taken aback, completely surprised by his demeanor and request, realizing finally the severity of your situation. He was right, you needed to pay attention when your health was in question. You curse silently at yourself for getting distracted earlier, you were a doctor for fucks sake, you needed to stay focused. 

“I-I…” You can feel the color flood to your face in embarrassment, exhaling a deep breath before continuing, “I’m sorry Albert, you’re right. I’ll pay more attention from now on. My… My health is important.” The last part is difficult for you to admit, for the past few weeks you’d been ready for the virus to kill you, unable and unwilling to continue fighting against Umbrella and their bioweapons. You were starting to feel some of your spirit returning, some of your willingness to fight coming back. 

He smiles softly at you, a rare treat, “I’m going to have some more tests ordered, okay? We can go over them and possible Veronica side effects tomorrow.” He goes to stand, and you reach out without thinking, hand touching his chest. 

“Wait!” He raises an eyebrow at you, amused. You look at him longingly, your eyes pleading, “Stay here tonight.”

He pulls away, actually standing now, brows knit together in thought.

“You’re stressed, I can tell.” You pause, “Let me take care of you.” His work was clearly weighing on him, you could always tell. During your STARS days together you were always able to pick up on when his workload was becoming unbearable, when it was weighing on his mind; though now you know he wasn’t just working for STARS at the time, Umbrella had been working him hard too. 

He thinks for a moment, it couldn’t hurt to play domestic with you for one night surely, “Is that all?” He asks. You blink at him, he was just as good at reading you as you were at reading him, you had a more selfish reason to ask him to stay. You rub your shoulder, looking away from him, suddenly sheepish at his question. 

“It’s okay, what is it, little bird?” He reassures you, placing his hand on your other shoulder, squeezing it slightly. 

You take a deep breath, “It’s the nightmares Albert… I thought… I thought they might not be as bad if you were here.” You feel stupid for even saying it outload, like a school girl with a silly crush. 

He doesn’t hesitate when responding, “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to pick into Albert's brain a little bit here, get into his thoughts a little, hope you all enjoy!


	21. Chapter 21

He was back in five minutes, as promised; carrying a change of clothes and a few other belongings necessary for an overnight stay. It had been an agonizing five minutes for you, unsure if he’d actually return, or what to expect when he did. You were beyond relieved when he came back, part of you afraid that he’d only agreed to placate you, and had no intention of returning. 

He hung his clothes in the bedroom closet to keep them wrinkle free and put his toiletries in the bathroom. He found himself back in front of you, sitting in the chair right where he left you, unmoving since he left. The silence between you is deafening, as it becomes obvious things are a little awkward. Normally his visits were short, just to check and make sure you were doing alright, to take some vitals, administer a test or oversee a visiting doctor or nurse. You didn’t have a tv or radio to play background noise like most couples might when winding down for the night, which makes the stark silence even more apparent; bringing to light how sterile your apartment really was, and how strange your partnership with Albert could be. 

He stands in front of you, clearly trying not to seem as aloof as he felt; he wrung his gloved hands together, tapping his foot incessantly. You were lost in your own thoughts, something that you found happening more and more often; you were aware of his presence but couldn’t quite fully acknowledge it, almost trapped in your own mind. 

Sometimes you thought you saw Alexia, thought you heard her. You swore her voice was so real sometimes you’d look around the room for her, only to hear the fading sound of her laughter. Other times you’d catch a whiff of Jill’s perfume, or think you saw Joseph duck around a corner, sometimes you’d even see Nicholai’s silver hair and the flash of his teeth as he smirked at you. 

It was maddening. 

What was worse was that you found yourself chasing after them, rounding corners to find nothing, chasing non-existent smells and sounds, talking to yourself, calling out to them. It seemed like everyday there were more ghosts from your past, more people you’d lost tormenting you, following you, haunting your dreams. 

You grip the sides of your head, massaging your temples as you nurse a fresh migraine, trying to ignore the dull ache in your head and the radiating pain in your side. A rumbling sound catches your attention and your eyes snap up, finally looking at Albert, finally realizing he was there. 

“Are you hungry?” You ask, realizing the sound was his stomach. You almost laugh, it was so human, you hadn’t seen him eat in such a long time you’d almost forgotten he needed to. 

He looks embarrassed for a moment before nodding, scratching the back of his head. He wasn’t just hungry, he was ravenous; the virus made his metabolism inhumanly fast, making him need to eat constantly. 

You finally let out a small laugh, it was silly seeing him this way; messy from work, sheepishly asking you for food. The two of you hadn’t interacted like this in a long time, not since STARS. He used to come over after your horrifically long shifts, you’d cook something quickly if you had the energy or you’d grab take out, eat together and collapse into bed. You treasure those memories, happy to be reminded of them. 

You grab him by the hand, leading him to the small kitchen, “Come on.” You weren’t an expert chef, but you knew how to cook; gardening had gone hand-in-hand with being in the kitchen, so you’d known enough to keep the two of you happy and fed. 

You put a pot of water on to boil and start chopping some herbs, your kitchen didn’t have much and wasn’t very well stocked, but you had pasta, herbs and garlic, so you could manage. 

“I’m surprised you let me have knives.” You joke, moving on from the herbs to start slicing your garlic into slivers, “I’ll grow my own herbs soon.” 

He smiles softly, content to watch you cook, unsure how to help or if you even wanted his help. He hovers almost awkwardly, like he didn’t know how to act around you. Before long the pasta is done and you’re tossing it in the sauce you made, directing him to pull out some bowls from a nearby cabinet. The two of you move to the table with your bowls, eating quietly. 

“How is it?” You ask.

“Exquisite.” He responds without thinking, barely pausing between forkfuls to answer; he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed your cooking. Your heart flutters in your chest, surprised and pleased to have made something he liked. 

By the time the two of you are done eating he has finished three bowls of the dish, hungry finally sated for the moment. You’re surprised when he starts tending to the dishes, something he used to do when you cooked for him. The act is painfully domestic, it practically hurts you to see; reminding you only of what you have lost, the apartment you would have shared in Raccoon City if things hadn’t gone to shit. 

“Do you remember Enrico?” The words leave your mouth without thinking, you hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud. He pauses at the sink, caught off guard, before continuing his work washing.

“Yes, I remember Captain Enrico. He was the closest thing I had to an equal, I beat him out for the Alpha team position.” His words are pedantic, as if your question took him to a past life, or he was being careful in his response. 

Albert had beaten Enrico for the Alpha team captain spot, while the two teams were meant to be sister squads, equals, with neither being better than the other; there was a natural sibling-rivalry between the two, and Alpha Squad had always seen themselves as the superior team, even if they didn’t say it. Despite this, both squads were close, and while Wesker was the patriarch of Alpha Squad, Enrico had been the patriarch of Bravo Team. You hadn’t been particularly close with Enrico, but he’d always been friendly towards you, like a favorite uncle. Just like the other lost members of STARS, your thoughts wandered to him constantly. 

“I always wonder what happened to him, I never found out. It…” You pause, trying to bite back tears, “It hurts me to think that he may have been alive when the mansion exploded, that we may have left him behind.” 

Albert sets the final dish down, finished washing and drying, “You don’t need to worry about that, dove. Enrico was dead long before the building was destroyed.” He pushes his sunglasses back up his nose, drying off his hands. 

“I do worry about it though, I wonder what happened to him...” 

“I shot him.” He sighs, words coming out suddenly.

The words hang between you as you struggle to process what he said. He waits for a moment before continuing, “I shot Enrico. He was in the tunnels below the mansion, Jill found him. He was about to tell her I was a traitor when I put a bullet in his chest.” He smirks to himself, “Though, at that point she probably thought the traitor was Barry…” 

His baritone voice trails off, his words echoing in your head. Of course he shot him, you didn’t know what you expected; you’d known Albert had betrayed STARS but you’d never known the full extent. 

You stand abruptly, fast enough to aggravate your wound, causing your chair to make a horrid scraping noise along the ground and your abdomen to ache, “I’m going to bed.” 

You don’t hear whatever he says as you leave; and when he joins you in bed you have to keep yourself from crying when he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. You don’t have any nightmares, but your night is sleepless, thought’s consumed by Enrico. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👉👈
> 
> I should probably say this but... there is no end to this story in sight.... we haven't even left 1998 yet.... barely a month after Code Veronica. I anticipate this will go on forever, I cannot escape it; by the time it is finished it will be a twelve billion page, publishable novel. 
> 
> I'm also writing some other RE flavored stuff, a Nicholai fic, some porn without plot (to be posted soon) and I want to write a sister piece to this one that is just smut....


	22. Chapter 22

You hit the punching bag with a satisfying thud, ignoring the pain in your side. While your injuries had been healing, the pain was nowhere near gone; Alexia’s parting shot still gnawed on your gut hungrily. You forced yourself to ignore it, refusing to let her or the pain get the best of you, despite the near blackout level of intensity it reached sometimes. 

You punch the bag again, harder this time; happy when the force reverberates through your arm and up your shoulder. You pick up the pace, hitting the bag harder and faster. The bag starts swinging violently, more than it had ever moved in the past during your boxing sessions; you hardly notice, to caught up in your efforts. 

You reel back for a final punch, slamming into the sandbag with all your might, your fist colliding with more force than you thought yourself capable of. The metal hook keeping the bag aloft snaps, and the bag is sent flying backwards, smashing into the wall behind it. 

Normally your breathing would be ragged, you’d be trying to catch your breath from the exertion, but you stand there, bewildered but fine. Had you really done that? The adrenaline begins to ebb away, leaving spots in your eyes as you stumble to find a surface to hold on to, pain from your injuries overcoming you. 

You can hardly see, and your knees give out; but you never hit the floor. Firm hands grab you gently by the waist and hold you steady, Wesker. Your vision clears and you look up at him, blinking away a pain induced tear. 

“You really should be careful.” To anyone else he would sound chastising, but you know he’s teasing, the smile pulling at the corner of his lip gives him away. 

You push him away, “Oh shove off.” You can’t help but smile, he was so serious lately, it almost made you forget how upset and conflicted you were with him. Your smile fades fast, thoughts of your discussion the other night returning to you. 

He gestures to the punching bag, which now leaned sadly over itself, broken against the wall, “You’ve made quite a mess,” He pauses for a moment, shaking his head, “You’re changing quickly.” 

“Changing quickly, what does that mean?” You ask, fear, confusion and rage threatening to bubble up in your stomach. 

“Veronica.” His tone is somber, a stark change from the light hearted teasing from just a moment ago.

“Wait, so I’m going to get super strength from the virus?” 

He nods, “There’s a possibility you’ll develop other powers as well, since your strain came directly from Alexia.” 

A knot ties itself in your gut, one that doesn’t untie itself no matter how much you try to calm yourself down. 

  
\---

The mirror in your bathroom is small, but you’re thankful to have one after your incident with the last mirror. You examine your face; your eyes are gaunt, dark circles have formed under them from pain and lack of sleep. You’re almost scared to look at your irises themselves, after Albert told you they looked different, you’d been avoiding it. You look down at your fingernails, which have blood caked underneath them; you promise yourself to clean them before taking a deep breath and looking back up into the mirror. 

You lean in close, and gasp when you see your iris. They were mostly the same, but along the outer ring was a distinct line of scarlet where Wesker’s virus had begun attacking the ocular tissue. Flecks of gold flicked inward towards the pupil, surrounded by the brilliant red. How had you never noticed? It was a gradual change you supposed, and when you were in Raccoon City you certainly weren’t looking in any mirrors. 

The knot in your stomach tightens, how much would you change before you were unrecognizable? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a minute! Needed a break from this! Hope to keep updating gradually from now on :) 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi part series that will take part over the course of the Resident Evil Gameverse!! Since this is a self insert there will obviously be some discrepancies in canon, since we've added a character to the events that occurred, but I'll be doing my best to follow the events of the games, how I feel our character would experience them, what would happen, and how she would react as best as possible. That being said I HATE Resident Evil 5 and will disregarding it and doing what I want <3
> 
> I love Wesker and I have a big stupid crush on him ..... this serires will be explicit, there will be porn! also there's probably mistakes or typos because i don't edit my work ever hee hee
> 
> edit: its probably a little late to add this since over 700 people have seen it already but... I stream on Twitch! Kind of a weird place to advertise but, I stream Dead by Daylight and a few other games, including Resident Evil from time to time! I'm LGBT and it's all good vibes, so if you like my writing, maybe check me out!! https://www.twitch.tv/sen_holo


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